The air felt heavy and still--it was hard to be sure how much was from the actual atmosphere, and how much Greg imagined. Personally, it felt like he was wading through tension, just to get to the couch. It was the kind of awkward atmosphere Greg would usually assume he was intruding on and back out, under any other circumstance.

Under this circumstance, though, Wash was setting him down, next to a gaping and unshaven Leonard. Before Greg could say anything, Casey was there too, staring slackjawed. He'd run over this moment a few dozen times in his head, trying to imagine where he'd go with it, yet not once did he ever actually succeed in figuring it out.

Greg tried out a disarming grin, but it became more of a little wince, hardly more than a twitch of the lips. "H-hey... hey fellas. I'm..."

The word "okay" caught in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact, and see them staring in disbelief that he was here, he was alive, because he wasn't supposed to be. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here, to shrink and vanish into the couch or out in the street or anywhere else that didn't involve staring.

He focused on the door. "H-have you... seen Rose...?"