Easter woke up in his own room.
His body ached in places he didn't know could ache, a dull throb behind his eyes that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. For a moment he just lay there, blinking at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had happened before the dark swallowed him whole.
The chair. The machine. The needle.
He didn't get far past that before the door opened.
Easter sat up too fast, his head swimming with the sudden movement. An old man walked in first, silver-haired, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than every home Easter had ever lived in combined. Behind him came a small procession an elegant middle-aged woman, two broad-shouldered men in sharp black suits, and a young woman trailing at the back with a tablet clutched to her chest.
Five people. In his room. All at once.
Easter's eyes moved across each of them, cataloguing without meaning to. Old habits.
