Few things just now could have propelled Stutely into motion faster than that voice. "Tuck?" Leaving the shattered mug where it lay, he jogged to the bedroom, cleared the doorway, and there— pale and ill and coughing and gloriously alive, there was Tuck.
Stutely let go of a breath he might have been holding in for days, the relief blooming across his face. He smiled widely, shook his head. "Oh, mate. You're a sight for sore eyes, you know that?"