The rush that flows through him is the first thing he notices. Indescribable. Like being satiated when he'd not even realized he was hungry. Fills his lungs with his next breath.

Then Jo goes limp, dead weight in his grasp. He pulls back. It's not concern, exactly—nothing can really happen to you in the Horizon—but it's so damn unexpected, it startles the anger out of him. For the moment, anyhow. He'll remember when she wakes back up later.

(Though in some ways, he almost knows what happened. Does he not? Not in precise terms, but he knows he did it, that it came from him. A flood of power that leeched into her.)

One foot half-passes the threshold between the room and the corridor. The ground gives out. He falls—tumbling through nothingness. His back slams against hard ground. Jo collapses right on top.

She's fine. Probably. He can hear her pulse, at any rate.

He squints in the darkness. Where in the hell. "Fuck."