"Veritably peachy," Haruichi answered, hoping his voice didn't sound as strained as it felt. He hadn't seen, had barely heard, the scene of their overjoyed reunion, and it was a shame. The sight of that would have done him good, and closed the door on the silent hurts in the back of his mind that had been changing his dreams lately.

He was too busy getting control of himself to have noticed anything beyond his heartbeat (slowing, but still off-kilter), his hands (trembling no matter what he did, but it would pass) and his eyes (sore from over-use and exposure to things best unseen). The vertigo was gone, the floor was always good for that, and the rest would calm down soon enough. He just needed time to rest, and to let his body accept that he wasn't about to be chakra-shocked again.

Haruichi dropped his hands, one to his knee and the other to the side of his neck to measure his pulse. Tsume and Kuromaru were looking at him, and he automatically wished they wouldn't. Pride pushed him to sit more acceptably, push his feet out so his knees were away from his chest and his lab coat could be seen properly... even if it was half-off his right shoulder. Authority. He had to hold on to it whether he felt like curling up in a ball and passing out or not.

But now he was looking at them, the woman and the dog, and they were a lifetime removed from the skulking, cowering creatures who'd walked into the room less than an hour ago. They were vibrant, bold and reassured. They had their confidence returned.

He'd done that. And the small shadow of the fact that he'd taken it away in the first place was cleared by the stress and reversable hurt of the repairs. He was back to even zeroes on his account with the two of them. Clean slate.

"How do you both feel?" he asked. He wanted to know, and he wanted to wait a moment longer before unbalancing the equation with the two of them again.