Relief and pain tangled up together, that's Raju's not-laugh, agony and fright that had been tamped down like gunpower in his chest suddenly exploding from a lit match. He shares the sentiment, feels it viscerally, though he can't make his tongue and teeth form those exact words. He settles for nodding very slowly; yes, he's still alive, and so is Raju, they've somehow survived again.

But Raju had thrown himself in front of him, faced down the door with the intent of...

Now that control is being returned to them, he lingers on the thought. His intent was to spare him? Save him? Be the first to die? This man, this friend, this dear, dear friend, had been mired in the same terror as him, but he'd still managed to act selflessly. It's remarkable.

Fresh tears threaten to spill onto his cheeks as his hand snakes away from his friend's. It finds the streaks left behind on his cheeks, tracing down from cheekbone to moustache before dropping to pull him into an embrace, chest against chest.

"You..." Ah, there's his voice. It's watery and rough, but at least it's back. He wants very much to tease him for throwing himself into harm's way or make some sort of joke about being horrendously outmatched by the Darkwalker, but sincerity wins out, especially when he feels his chest rise and fall against his. "You're still alive. I was convinced...it felt like the end of things. And you put yourself between me and the door."