One of the worst feelings was the feeling of being out of the loop. A generous and rather patient member of The Typhoon had recently tried to fill him in on what he had missed but there were only so many things that could make sense to him. For a starters, he could not really imagine the idea of the island being inhabited by more than one ghost. One was enough. Another thing he refused to wrap his head around was the fact that so many pirates had been captured by The Pitt. The motherfucking Pitt of all places. He must have been dreaming if it hadn't been for the fact that he saw injured and pitiful Junji staggering toward the railroad, hitting the bell to be flocked to by Victor and Sil. Had they really become this weak? The Reaver does nothing to hide the intensifying frown upon his youthful face, sanguine eyes resembling dead coals when he approaches, skimming his hues across the other male's imperfect alabaster fur, tainted by the evidence of struggle and torture. He notices as well that he's been crying, the rings about his tired lids. This was the male that seemed to be so smitten with Luca, the male hardly paying enough attention to tell if Luca reciprocated the feelings at all.

His eyes flicker towards Sil, watching the way the sage carefully spoke to the angel. Unaware of the non-binary's amnesia, distaste began to sit at the base of his tongue. Healing. The unreachable knowledge. He knew nothing about how to help his comrades and it frustrated him to know that he would always be the one watching, only there to cauterize a wound provided none of the other ten billion fire manipulators had showed up to the scene. He tries not to scowl but just anyone can see the raising of his upper lip, beginning to show the pearly whites of his embittered canines. He draws his gaze away, huffing hot air from his lips before returning his attention to Junji. "Wel...welcome back," he stammers, biting his bottom lip. He may as well be begrudgingly hospitable. His fur is raised, puffed out as it normally is in a great, foreboding dread. As of late, he had become increasingly aware that Luca must have had enhanced senses. He would rather steer clear from the male's line of fire as much as possible. His damaged ego wasn't ready.

"Can I help with anything, Sil?"

"Junji!"

Bakugou was right, Luca didn't miss much with those sharp eyes and ears of his. It only took his name in that familiar, beautiful voice, and Luca was speeding over at triple his usual pace. Now it was known fact that Luca hated to yell, but he sure yelled now as he sped across the Typhoon's golden sands. He had to let Junji know that he was here, that he had been waiting desperately for his return. The flour that caked the fur of his chest and paws indicated that he had been baking before he rushed to the gates, a habit he often preformed to calm himself down in times of distress. He squirmed between the crowd, paying no mind to the newly revived Bakugou (a painful reminder of his demonic soul) and straight towards his angelic lover (who was uncomfortable to look at in his own right). Blood caked the once pristine feline's fur, and he reached out in an attempt to brush the pretty boy's cheek. "I missed you so much," he said, his voice wavering as tears bloomed along his lower lashes. The last time he'd touched the angel it was in the process of trying to eat him alive. Luca had no words to express his guilt, so he didn't try. Later he would hold Junji close and sob apologies until the both of them were sick of his voice, but for now all he wanted was to get rid of the blood and the tears and the dark circles that almost made Junji hard to recognize. "Stay with me for a bit, please, my house is closer I promise I- I'll bring you anything you want-" his voice cracked and he broke off, sharp teeth coming down on his lower lip.

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