Mike had gone out to a couple of hot spots and fought against magical worms. His shadows and other summoned creatures bore most of the damage, though he did get zapped by an ionic worm. He didn’t die, nor did his spells fail.
Maybe it’s possible, he thought, as he munched absently on some cheese doodles while watching three channels on the TV simultaneously with the sound off.
He heard the door to the moon base hiss open, and he glanced back. Toxicon stood there, in a T-shirt and leather pants. Toxicon never wore casual wear, at least since joining the group.
“I didn’t think anyone would be here this morning,” he said. He looked even more haggard than usual. “I was going to leave a message.”
“For who?” Mike wiped the neon orange cheese from his fingertips onto his pants, and brushed them off.
“Everyone. Lexi’s dead.”
Mike stopped brushing his pants and looked up at the young man. He was more concerned about Toxicon. But he just stood there, as if he had just announced dinner was served. His gloved hands were at his sides, and he looked in Mike’s direction, though Mike couldn’t tell if Toxicon was actually seeing him, not with those green glowing eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Alex.” He started toward him.
Toxicon shrugged. Mike knew what that meant. He wouldn’t grieve yet, not until things were taken care of. Then he’d either grieve later, or when he was at a moment of weakness. It would come upon him suddenly and then he would weep.
“I have to take her home,” Toxicon said as Mike crossed the room. “To be with my parents.”
“I understand,” Mike said. “Will you have a service?”
“A service?”
“Memorial service.”
“What for?”
Mike crossed his arms and tilted his head questioningly.
“You didn’t know her.”
“But we know you.”
Toxicon waved his head, looking confused. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Wait until tomorrow afternoon. Then come here so we can all express our condolences.”
Toxicon sighed. “If you want. I’ll cancel the flight–”
“We’ll take care of that for you. I’m sure Scott can get you a private plane.” He went to the console. “I’m going to announce it to everyone, is that okay?”
Toxicon shrugged again.
“Tomorrow, around one?”
“I guess.”
“‘kay.” Mike took off his ring and set it in the palm of his hand. He spoke to it: “Attention everyone. We have some bad news. Toxicon’s sister has just passed away. We will have a short memorial service at the base tomorrow around one. That is all.” He turned to Toxicon. “There. Simple.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“How would you feel if, say, Swoop lost someone dear to him? Wouldn’t you want to console him?”
Toxicon narrowed his eyes. Mike realized he used the wrong word. “I don’t need to be consoled,” Toxicon said. “I don’t need anything.”
With that, he walked out the door, head and shoulders squared, and not looking back.
Mike heard his phone tweet, which was Scott’s ring. He would tell Scott he didn’t know what happened, and that Toxicon was closed off and in shock. He would tell that to everyone.