[Hank squeezes his eyes shut as the world dissolves into - he doesn’t know, a bunch of disturbing bullshit he doesn’t have the time or mental space to figure out and, when he opens them, the snow is gone. The sounds of the road in the distance are gone. He takes a few seconds to stare up, just taking that in, feeling the dark and nasty stormcloud churning up inside him starting to go still again. He feels nastier than he realizes, heavy and shaken and... and everything else that’s not getting a name right now, but it’s not as desperate as it was. As far as Hank’s concerned he feels better.

Then he takes Cayde’s hand, pulls himself up and, not letting himself think anything at all about what he sees there, looks in the little pool. It soaked his ass a little but it didn’t wash off his face. He moves a hand toward the water, about to wash it off, then stops. He closes his eyes, breathing hard.

When he opens them, the stains are fading away. They’re not gone but the color’s different, dry and flaking. Fuck it. That’s fine.

He turns back to Cayde, a corner of his lips twitching up in the best sort-of smile he can manage.]

Good. I’m sick of hallucinating people, anyway. Wanna show me around? Maybe we’ll find, I don’t know, some kind of door with a big old exit sign.