[ he's slow to wake, and the fact that nothing's come out at him yet for taking his time is both a good and bad thing -- there's no immediate threat here or he's alone, or maybe even some combination of both. either way, he takes more than a few moments to adjust to the light, the stagnant air and cold metal beneath his cheek, finally pulling himself up when five minutes of staring at nothing doesn't magically take him back to frank's truck. the jumpsuit is scratchy, loosely hanging off his bony frame enough that he can simply look down and see the logo. reverie terminal. reverie, lost in dreams. dreaming about the shitty warehouse he lived it would have been nicer than this.

it's some time later after shuffling around and fiddling with his device when he runs into frank. and maybe he should be more surprised, but he only feels the sense of something finally slotting back into place, his perspective re-calibrating accordingly now that he has something familiar, a point of reference to operate from. ]

Don't think there's a chance for them to beam us back, huh. [ david taps on the window with his knuckle after sliding in next to frank, small enough to fit in the window's frame alongside him. ] The view's nice at least. They didn't skimp on that.

[ for it being a rust bucket, at least. ]