Genesis plays along with the pantomime of a husband and a wife - consummate thespian that he is - and Sephiroth gratefully carries him to their room. Although the bed consists primarily of a bare mattress on top of a couple of stacks of pallets, large enough for two men only if they embraced, that's enough, considering their circumstances.

Sephiroth lays Genesis down on the mattress first, and then steps back, as if to admire his handiwork. Genesis's color is up; he looks better than he did yesterday, after the exertion of their travel. The cracks in his skin are dull and flaking, but a night's rest and water have brightened his eyes. As Sephiroth's eyes rove Genesis, taking in the strands of gray in his hair, the way his coat sprawls beneath him on the bed - as they look him up and down, Sephiroth's gaze softens, warms. He is a little nervous, yes, but -

He has Genesis. Against all odds, out of the jaws of death, he has snatched him back.

Sephiroth blushes again, and the shadow of a smile plays about his lips. "What shall we do?" he asks.