What was he gonna do? What the hell was he gonna do?
His mind kept leaping into different scenarios - some great, some truly awful - and then whenever he'd reel himself out of them, he seemed to yank too hard and send his mind right back into the memories of what it had felt like, sitting opposite Makaria on the train, guilt and horror eating him up from the inside.
And once he'd dragged himself out of that quagmire he stumbled right back into what if she kisses me again.
Really... Much only had one option; he was going to do what he always did, and play everything entirely by ear.
Just wing the goddamn crap out of it.
"Hi," he breathed, after a short jog up her street from the nearest available parking. "Holy crap, breathing is getting weird out here. It's like you can taste the storm coming, brrr!" He shook himself, an electrified jolt of a shiver. "How you doing? You okay? It's good to see ya." Should he hug her? Would that be too much? Maybe - he didn't want her to feel like he was pouncing on her. Out of all the people he knew, Qebhet seemed the most likely candidate to feel like a Much hug was a pouncing. Maybe just a grin, one as wild as the sky? That'd do instead, right?