Xavier woke up groggily, blinking up at the ceiling with the dazed confusion of someone who wasn't entirely sure he was alive yet.
For a long, slow moment, he just lay there, limbs heavy, brain running at the speed of wet cement. Then a familiar internal alarm finally clicked on, bringing with it a creeping sense of caution he'd earned the hard way.
He pushed himself upright, moving with the wary stiffness of a man who had suffered too many surprise detonations at dawn. His eyes narrowed as he scanned his room, taking in every detail with grim, methodical precision.
He checked the floorboards for scorch marks. The desk for missing corners. The ceiling for suspicious cracks. The air for that faint, horrifying pop that usually preceded something catching fire.
He took his time. He always did.
