Younger Hemingway had gone very pale and sickly looking, and it definitely wasn't just because of his injuries. It had been ridiculous and confusing in theory, but with the living, breathing man in front of him it was too much for his brain to process.
"You've had a lot to explain," her Hemingway told her softly, although he was examining his younger counterpart's expression, knowing how difficult arriving here had been. And he hadn't been confronted with a version of himself right away, to add to the trauma.
He let Abi pull him aside, and only then looked at her properly. She looked distraught and a little upset, and Hemingway felt terrible that he hadn't looked to her first. "Oh, God, don't be sorry. I- are you okay? I'm sorry, this must have been..." he shook his head, not sure of the exact word, and opting instead to pull her in for a reassuring hug and peck on the cheek.