Really, Storm had taken to rooting himself in the Garden, because it made it so much easier to clean up at least a portion of his damage. He hated killing and maiming flowers, and it was a nuisance to know that he'd done such a thing and not done anything to clean up. So, he stayed, for the most part, always a little more stationary than Fog.
He'd been rather intently daydreaming into his cup at this point, but when the familiar voice rang out, he was met with a mixture of joy and panic, that lead to a bright white cloud- which became rather hard to see through as he tried to stand up and make sure he was presentable. His clothes- grey, sort of boring, but he could live with that. His hair was, well his hair. There was no changing that. Presentable enough, he had to say. It had to be okay, really, because this was what was happening.
"Darling." he called back, eventually finding her, and trying to resist the urge to wrap her up in a hug straightaway. However, that didn't stop him from smiling, albeit a little awkwardly, and standing there with his arms out just the slightest bit.
Storm wasn't a hugger, but he could certainly hug Fog.