He dreamed of the tri-colored starry sky again, but this time it was hazy. His consciousness simply drifted aimlessly.
His aimless drifting came to an end as Rorschach opened his eyes to a new ceiling. Sunlight spilled onto the pale yellow wallpaper, and the room's furnishings were painted a light blue. There were two beds in the room, and the white sheets and pillowcases led Rorschach to guess he was probably in a hospital.
On the other bed, Pascal was fast asleep, snoring. He probably hadn't planned on sleeping. The evidence was all there: he was still wearing his Mage Robe, had no blanket, clutched a Spell Book in his hand, and his head was lolled to the side. He had basically slumped against the headboard while sitting up. If he stayed that way, he would wake up to the wonderful prize of a stiff neck, a sore back, and a cold.
Based on this assessment, Rorschach decided to wake him up. "Senior Brother? Pascal? Thor?"
