Michael had wanted to tell Trevor that he was alive. He really had. But it wasn't exactly as if he had much of a chance to. He had gone straight from torture to The Pitt, and then he had ended up from the Pitt to The Typhoon. Not only had he been doing near constant traveling, but he also had been extremely injured. First from the wounds of his months of torture, and then from protecting Roxie from the dire wolf. He could barely walk around without being in pain, and he had no idea where the fuck Trevor could be, so that's why he hadn't gone searching for the other. At least not yet. He had intended to, once he started to feel better, but he was still pretty damn far from that goal at the moment, so he had figured that he wouldn't see Trevor for at least quite a while. Michael also tried his best not to think of the worst case scenario, where Trevor wasn't even alive anymore. The thought of that being the case... it made his stomach twist unpleasantly, and his heart collapse in on itself. He couldn't even begin to think about things like that, because it would just lead to an awful downward spiral that he wouldn't be able to pull himself out of while injured.

Michael had been out for a walk when that familiar scent had met his nose. Vaguely like gasoline, and mixed with mud and blood and the wilds. For a moment, Michael thought that maybe he was hallucinating the smell, so desperate for the companionship of his former partner in crime. However, when he padded over one of the many dunes in the sand and caught sight of the coyote, his breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in shock. Michael hardly looked like he had last time Trevor had seen him, back when his seemingly dead body had been dragged away. Now, he was covered in a multitude of scars, with one of his blue eyes covered with bandages, as well as all of his legs and his shoulders. He looked half mummified, although he was still wearing his usual jewelry, as well as his aviators. Not only that, but he was wearing Trevor's fucking jacket. He had found it in his bag the previous day, desperately looking for something to snuggle while he laid down to heal. Finding the jacket had been... embarrassing, since he had forgotten he had taken it in the first place, but also thrilling, because it still sort of held the coyote's scent. He currently wore it around his slightly smaller form, which was definitely still embarrassing, but he didn't really give a shit, because Trevor was here, and in front of him.

The bobcat found himself rushing over before he knew it, his legs moving quickly beneath him as he raced towards Trevor. However, his injuries were quick to remind him of their presence, pain suddenly splitting up his legs and into his spine. He stumbled, letting out a curse of a grunt before he limped the last bit of the way over, one of his legs slightly dragging behind him. Once he was in front of the coyote, he said softly and slightly breathlessly, "Are you... what... Jesus Christ, T? How did you... what are you doing here?" He wasn't sure whether he sounded overjoyed or absolutely devastated, but he felt as though he was ready to collapse.

Sometimes, Michael was truly struck by just how wildly Trevor's words could contrast with his actions and emotions. The bobcat found himself wincing a little but at the litany of curses that left the coyote's mouth at first, even though he really should've been expecting that after what he had done. Still, even after his little miniature tirade, T was still pressing forward into his space, the other's cold nose pressing affectionately against him. Normally he would've pushed the other quickly away, fumbling with his words and the heat rising to his face, but... he'd missed Trevor so much that he couldn't even begin to imagine doing that. So, instead he leaned into the touch, his voice a soft mutter as he responded, "Sorry, I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing. I did it for you... I'll explain more later, when we're alone." He was aware of just how that sounded after the fact, but it wasn't as if he could take it back now. He was going to continue, but then Trevor asked him about his appearance, causing the male to pause and glance down, "Oh, this. I... uh... well. I sort of got attacked. Well, not quite. I wasn't the one who got attacked, but I jumped in to protect somebody who was bein' attacked, and this happened... plus there's some stuff from before that from torture..." He trailed off slightly as he inspected his own wounds, prodding at the bandages as he tried to remember which were from the dire wolf attack and which were from the Lost.

It was then that Michael turned his attention to Roxie, catching the tail end of her gentle scolding. He offered her a crooked smile before he responded, his one uncovered blue eye gleaming, "Sorry, Rox... didn't mean to push myself so much. Just got... caught up in the moment, I suppose." She then continued, now focusing her attention on the both of them, a fact that caused Michael's face to heat up considerably beneath his pelt. Lovebirds? Is that what they came off as to others? He opened and closed his muzzle pathetically, struggling to find the right words in his flustered state, when Trevor spoke up, declining the offer for marigold. Michael quickly took the opportunity to move on from the lovebirds comment, looking up at the coyote and huffing, "T. She asked your name and business too, dumbass. Roxie, this is Trevor. As for his business here... well, I'm assuming he's here for me. So I guess joining?" It would've been a bold assumption to make, had Michael been anyone besides himself.