[And Matt just stares. For a long moment it might seem like he is, in fact, that alternate reality Matt, the one who can't see past a haircut and some borrowed glasses and a couple years of height. He doesn't even blink during that moment, too busy looking up at her from his position half-sprawled on the floor.
Then, very slowly, he gets to his feet, cloak falling in gentle folds around him. He reaches out, cautiously, touches a shorn lock of hair, like he's waiting for her to disappear.
u will pry this "pidge-is-short-for-pigeon" headcanon from my cold, dead hands
Then, very slowly, he gets to his feet, cloak falling in gentle folds around him. He reaches out, cautiously, touches a shorn lock of hair, like he's waiting for her to disappear.
Softly:] Hey, pigeon.