bossymarmalade: kanye slumped over his beat machine (let's have a toast for the douchebags)
miss maggie ([personal profile] bossymarmalade) wrote in [community profile] thejusticelounge2012-09-16 10:54 am

i'm here

The Zeta pad hummed a long descending note as it cooled down. Exhausted, Guy didn’t even step off the rooftop transport pad, he just let his ring float him down to the balcony. “Kyle?” he called, half-expecting to see him in the kitchen or living room. The place was so quiet, and all he could hear was the distant noises of lunchtime activity from the bar downstairs.

“Ring,” he yawned, “Transmit a full report to Salaak on Oa of the recent attack of the Red Arr-…fuck, I mean the Red Lantern Roy Harper…” That was one hell of a slip of the tongue, Guy. You’re tired, but don’t make that mistake again. The Arrows don’t need that pain. “Request any new available info in return, and add this: ‘Salaak, gonna have to break your house arrest to go after the threat, he’s left Earth and Kyle and Hal will need my help to track him down and deal with him. The job comes before bureaucratic spankings, Sal.’

[Acknowledged. Report compiled and transmitted.]

“Thanks Ring.”

[Acknowledged. Warning, you are anemic. Recommen-]

“I know, I know,” Guy smiled to himself, shaking his head. ”Juice, sleep, iron supplements, yada yada. You do your bit, Ring, I’ll eat steak every night, we’ll be good in a few days, right?”

[With adequate diet, minimum recovery time is five days, three hours.]

“Huh. Thought you were faster than that, Ring.”

[Correction. Six days, thr-]

“Okay, okay, sorry!”

He poked his head in the guest rooms, noting Dick, Lian, and Stephanie were all gone. Last he’d seen Kyle, he was staying behind here to protect them. ”Ring, locate Lantern Rayner?”

[Lantern Rayner is 6.53 metres southeast of current location.]



Guy frowned, wondering why Kyle hadn’t answered him when he’d called out, and made his way to Kyle’s room, knocking softly. When there was no answer, he entered quietly, seeing Kyle’s sleeping form on the bed, his head covered with a pillow.

“Kyle?” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on his bare shoulder as he did, “I just wanted you to know, Ollie’s going to be-” Guy broke off, feeling the heat rolling off Kyle’s body. “Kyle?” he repeated, and pulled the pillow aside, sucking in a concerned breath at the pale, sweat-soaked face revealed underneath. He could tell at a glance he was quite ill.

He stroked his hand comfortingly over the dark, damp hair and swore softly under his breath. “…Kyle, I’m here, partner. I’m here, now.”

Kyle drank it in, drank all the red in even as it burned his throat it didn’t matter because he deserved it, he deserved it, he des-

…Kyle, I’m here, partner.

- serted the rest of them, even though he wanted them to know he wasn’t running, he wasn’t scared, no, no in fact he wasn’t scared at all, but he knew how to make them feel -

I’m here, now.

Abre los ojos.

So Kyle tried, and he struggled to focus on the thick calloused fingers slipping through his hair, and the sink of the mattress where a close, warm body perched, the soft blend of orange and pinks and greens floating like a soft film over his eyes.

But it was the scent - hops and ginger and that unmistakable buzz of ozone - that pinpointed Kyle’s seething, uncontrollable thoughts and shot him into wakefulness. He opened his eyes.

“Guy…” Kyle blinked lazily at him. He tried to smile, hoping he was. “Sorry, I fell asleep…” Kyle remembered Hal’s message - was that a dream too? - and fought to collect his thoughts. He felt like he was swimming, so much damn swimming and his arms were so tired. ”Dick wanned t’take Licita home…Wayne Man’r, he…Steph, gone.” And Dick was right to do it. Their home was filled with angry red men who leapt from rooftops, small blue bugs who never healed, and the sound of retching. Always that sound of retching. Kyle could hear it right now. He moaned and tried to turn away, get away from the sound and the colors that now clashed in his eyes.

“Just need to sleep more…”

That’s where Dick and Lian were, then, Wayne Manor. Good, they’d be safe there. It was doubtful Kyle could protect them here, in his current state. Good call, Dick.

He straightened Kyle’s covers, and realized they were a bit sweat-damp as well. How long had he been ill? This had to have hit him hard, and fast, whatever it was. Food poisoning, maybe? He hoped not; not just for the sake of all their friends at last night’s party, but for the bar itself as well. Last thing they needed was a health and safety citation against Warriors.

“You’re sick, Kyle,” Guy told him in a gentle, light tone, “Runnin’ a fever here, we’ll have to do somethin’ about that. You taken any medicine? Had anythin’ to eat or drink?”

Kyle frowned and murmured into his pillow. Is that what it was? Sickness? Kyle couldn’t remember the last time he was sick, not from natural causes anyway. Did that mean this was…he vaguely recalled Guy, sick, sick twice but the last time it was…but then the thought frittered away. He curled more into a fetal position, pushing off the covers that felt way too warm now that he was awake. Nothing felt comfortable anymore. Kyle curled in more, clutching at his body.

“Nnnnggggggg, Guy, make it stop,” Kyle grated as a wave of clenching - from jaw to guts - overcame him. Make it stop. He was sure that Guy would. Guy could do anything. “Make it stop!”

Kyle shot his fist out and slammed it hard against the bed, trying to distract himself from the pain. And Guy saw those shapes again - those weird, alien-looking, pointless constructs that Kyle had created before popped up around him while he had put himself into stasis, one on top of the other like pop-up video bubbles. They bobbed around him in a weird panicked dance as if trying to protect him and torment him at the same time.

Kyle had broken into a sweat and was panting hard and loud through bared, clenched teeth, his eyes firmly shut. He needed to open his eyes and face reality, he needed to, but he found he couldn’t. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see. He just wanted to drown….

…no no no, Kyle fought against himself. You will not drown again. But try as he might, he still couldn’t open his eyes, he couldn’t deal, he didn’t want to as much as he wanted to.

Blindly, Kyle reached behind him, trying to grab for Guy. “Open my eyes, Guy. Open them. Please OPEN THEM. FORCE THEM OPEN PLEASE PLEASE!”

“Make what stop?” Guy asked, when just after he asked the floating constructs appeared around Kyle, the same as before, when he was in that coma-like stasis a month before. Oh, no…not this. Not again.

Kyle begged his eyes to be opened. He was panicking. Hallucinating. …Afraid.

Guy forced Kyle to roll over onto his back - swatting aside one of the constructs in his face - “Kyle…KYLE,” he used a more insistent voice as he wrestled with him, “Open your eyes, Kyle. Open your eyes and see me, I’m right here. Do it, buddy.”

He pushed the sweaty hair off Kyle’s forehead, and touched his thumbs to Kyle’s eyebrows, gently easing upwards, guiding more than forcing the eye open. “Relax, Kyle…just relax, trust me…you can do it yourself, just open your eyes. Don’t be afraid, buddy, I’m right here.”

“I can hear you, I can’t see you,” Kyle growled, frustrated as he took hold of Guy’s hands firmly and sniffed needily at the palms. A sweet delicate ferment and a sharp tang and of course, always always ozone. But Kyle wanted more, beyond that. He wanted to smell green. But he was drowning, his nose and mouth blocking up so even if he tried to taste Guy’s hands, he would only taste confusion and desperation, rolling off of the older Lantern.

It was like fighting himself, really is this what Hal felt like? With Parallax? a battle he couldn’t lose because himself wasn’t really himself is this Guy felt like? As a Red Lantern? it was something else. Wasn’t it? He couldn’t be trying to make himself drown. That would be…that would be madness. As mad as green rings in a clutch, a little nest of rings and rings and rings and —

Kyle yelled out, loud enough for the constructs to bounce away from him as if they weren’t his and he let go of Guy’s hand to slam his fist behind him, into the headboard. The ironwork smashed into his knuckles, splitting the skin against his bone, and —

Kyle lurched up for one still fraction of time, his eyes wide with shock as clutched Guy’s collar and stared. His face was only a fraction away and Guy could feel his overheated breath sigh softly against his chin, before Kyle was flung back down, almost like he was possessed. His eyes were shut again, dammit, but —

— but no. That was it. Kyle flexed his fist, the skin on his knuckles tore some more, and the sharp pain made him moan as his eyelids fluttered.

That was it.

“Listen to me, Guy. Do this for me. Por favor, I am begging you. I need you to hit me.” The words almost sobbed through, but Kyle tried to sound strong, for Guy. If he didn’t sound strong, Guy would fall apart and capitulate and Kyle didn’t want that. He needed his friend to be strong. He needed Guy to trust him. “Hit me. Hit me until I say stop.”

The constructs crowded around Guy, frenetic and pulsating.

Guy was trying to pin Kyle’s wrists down to keep him from hurting himself further, when he begged him to do the unthinkable. It made Guy blink, unsure he heard him correctly at first. ”Hit you?”

He sounded lucid: begging, but lucid. He knew what he wanted…no, needed, Guy corrected himself. He sounded just like Mr. Spock episode 48 of Star Trek, “A Private Little War”, when in a semi-conscious state he demanded Nurse Chapel strike him to bring him out of a Vulcan healing trance…

Obediently, he yanked Kyle to a sitting position and cursed at the floating constructs around his head to stop crowding him. He drew back and hesitated, only for a moment, “I’m sorry, Kyle…”

With that he let fly, hard but open-handed, and slapped his blind best friend directly across his face. He paused again, and looked at him; his eyes were still closed.

“Open yer eyes!” he insisted, and though if killed him to do it, he back-handed him, hard enough throw Kyle’s chin the other direction. The constructs all bobbed in unison, as if momentarily experiencing a loss of control, as if Kyle was distracted from controlling them. One more? I can’t keep doing this to him…but he’s not asking me to stop!

Guy’s powerful arm let fly again, his palm connecting with Kyle’s cheek and stinging his hand and likely Kyle’s face harder than the previous two. He heard Kyle grunt but his eyes were still closed, and he made a mental note to strike no harder than that. Hopefully Kyle would forgive him both the injury and the restraint.

Two more. I’ll do two more and then…check with him? Isn’t this the part where Hal or someone is supposed to walk in and see me hitting my partner and ask me what the hell I’m doing, and stop me?

“Open,” he backhanded him again, his smooth, heavy ring bruising but not tearing Kyle’s skin. “Your,” he slapped him a fifth time, stinging Guy’s palm and snapping an ill, injured, and blind young man’s head to one side. “EYES!”

Kyle was reeling. How could he have done it? How could he have struck him like that, helpless as he was, someone he loved like family?

Congratulations, Guy. You’ve just become your father.

Kyle huffed and gasped every time he felt the impact. It felt shocking and grotesque - not that Kyle hadn’t ever taken a beating before (hell; Guy wasn’t even hitting him hard) and not that his Lantern ring didn’t compensate for the smacks - but it was like every hit was a different wave of thoughts and emotions rushing over him.

First hit: ohgod what’mIdoing whatamIdoingtoGuy thishurtsGuymorethanme ofcourse it’salwaysworseforhim always always butyouforcehimtoanyway hewillneverforgivehimself Iamhurtinghim IAMKILLINGHIM ALWAYS.ABOUT.HIM YOU STUPID KYLE YOUARENOTGOOD IAMNOTGOODFORHIM-

Second hit: feels nicccCCcce though doesn’t it. let it happen let it fill you and eat y-

Third hit: open open open open open open open open open open open open opne onpe onep pone peno nope nope nope nope nope nope

Fourth hit: blood and pain and reign and terror -

Fifth hit: fuck this. fuck you whatever you are. soy hecho SOY HECHO-

-Kyle’s eyes flew wide open and he choked, throwing up more black syrupy gunk all over himself and his bed. Throwing up always made him feel miserable, like a sick child. He hated it.

He looked up at Guy, hoping, praying that Guy wasn’t crying. Kyle didn’t think he could stand to see Guy weeping. Again. About him. He keeps making Guy cry….

“I’m sorry…” the words dribbled out of his mouth along with the last globs of black. “Are you okay?”

Outwardly, Guy tried his best not to make a fuss. Kyle had a tendency to assume that he was being treated him a kid, or some inexperienced rookie, when others (Guy especially) fussed over him. Inwardly, Guy was trying to balance relief, concern, and no small amount of guilt. Regardless, Kyle needed help and care right now, and comparatively impractical apologies and explanations would have to wait. Hell, they would have to take a number behind all the other apologies and explanations, it seemed; Now serving number 37…

He constructed a towel and supported Kyle sitting up while he mopped the black goo from his face and chest. “Me? Heh, I’m fine, it’s you I’m worried about, are you all right? Didn’t hurt ya, did I? Let’s get ya cleaned up, partner…”

He led him to the bathroom and made sure he was okay to stand long enough to clean up, then returned, constructing a housekeeper to gather up the sweat-and-black-goo-soaked linens. The mattress would have to cleaned and the room aired out, but he could put Kyle in the guest room and look after him in there, for the time being.

Hopefully being able to climb in-between clean, cool sheets and breathe fresh ocean air would help him feel better. Sick bucket and other items in place, went to fetch Kyle from the bathroom, knocking before he entered. “You okay in here? Bed’s made up, let’s get you back into it,” he encouraged.

And then, maybe we can figure out what the hell just happened…

“Kate…Queen…” Kyle was trying to say as Guy led him into the bathroom, but his mouth was all sticky and gross. Once Guy left him in there, Kyle stripped down and stepped gratefully into the shower, letting the warm water and his hands slough off a few hours worth of fever and sickness. His mind was feeling calm now, not that weird jumbling sensation of images and dreams and horror that had been crowding his feverish brain. Kyle opened his mouth and let the water gargle through. What time was it, even? How long had he been in that fitful sleep before Guy found him?

He watched for a moment as black slooped away along with water and sweat and once his mouth was no longer feeling tacky, he gulped thirstily. Damn he was thirsty now.

Guy’s knocking pulled Kyle out of his reverie and he turned the shower off, toweling off before wrapping it around his waist. He scooped up his damp t-shirt and shorts and opened the door.

“Hey…thanks man, I’m fine, I’m fine, just feeling weak as a toad right now,” he said, smiling just a bit. Were toads weak? Did it really matter? The reality of everything happening was sinking in; and his smile faded, a look of grim concern crossing over his face. For a second his uniform flitted over his body, before fading away. Kyle realized he needed a recharge.

He straightened his posture out, slowly making for his bedroom and looking at Guy to follow. “Fill me in, partner. What’s the situation.”

He started at the beginning. “It’s confirmed. Roy is a Red Lantern. He attacked Ollie and Kate in their home last night, then left the planet entirely before he could finish the job. I got ‘em up to the Watchtower along with Mia. They were both stable when I left ‘em half an hour ago, Kate’s doing okay, some acid burns and a nasty concussion I think they said, but Ollie…”

He leaned against the hallway wall outside Kyle’s room, opting to not follow him in; the smell of the black vomit in there was still strong. Guy felt his head spinning, but he knew it had little to do with the odour in Kyle’s room; he’d be lying down shortly, either by choice or by gravity.

“It was close. Too close. He’s still classified as serious condition. Hal’s with him now, so, as soon as he’s ready, we’re going after Roy. Oh, an’ tell Hal Roy shattered his battery, I saw the broken pieces when I was at Ollie’s. I’ve already sent a report in to Salaak, an’ told him where he could stuff his house arrest.”

He thumbed down the hall, “I made up the guest room for ya, you should go back to bed until you’re sure you’re over this…thing. As soon as you’re settled, I’m grabbin’ some downtime too.”

Kyle paused as he clutched his lantern battery, listening to Guy relate everything that was going on, his eyes widening in distress. “Dios,” he whispered and wiped his brow. He’d broken out into a sweat again…probably from the heat of the shower. Of course. That was it. ”Hal contacted me, some hours ago, I don’t know when,” Kyle finally looked at the time, shocked at just how much time had passed, how much time he’d spent sleeping. He looked sadly back at Guy.

“You’ve been awake for like almost thirty-six hours, Guy. You need rest.” Kyle swallowed back a slight wave of nausea. He wasn’t going to keep being sick, this was ridiculous. Ollie was close to death, Jaime was unconscious, Kate was beat up and Guy was looking exhausted - this was the time his stupid body chose to get sick? Of all the inconvenient times to catch a bug…shaking his head angrily at himself, he tried not to think of that, or the bad taste these post-birthday tragedies left in his mouth.

Whatever. Didn’t matter. Not gonna think about that. He just needed to feel better again, and do his job. He was sure getting the recharge from his battery would help him feel better. It had to.

“Downtime, yeah. Downtime, then we go find Roy.” He smiled, feeling slightly defiant by Guy’s news about what he told Salaak. “House arrest be damned. We’re going after Roy.” He nodded and was about to charge his ring, when he looked up again. “And Guy - thank you. And sorry. I’m sorry I made you do…that. But you did what had to be done and it worked and…that’s what we do, right. Lanterns get things done, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Guy nodded, still lingering outside the bedroom, holding up the wall, “Oo-rah.” The U.S. Marine chant that John Stewart had once got them all using (except Hal, staunch ex-Air Force that he was) turned itself into a deep yawn which Guy had to cover with the back of his white-gloved hand. The time spent in the Italian sun was all that was keeping his actual anaemic complexion from matching his glove.

“An’ look, don’t sweat it,” he said in response to the apology. After Kyle’s guilt-laden confessions the previous night Guy knew he didn’t need more piled on. “I’m just glad you’re feelin’ better, Kyle. Maybe on our way to findin’ Roy, we can talk about these episodes of yours, with the constructs an’ trances?” He eyed the battery in Kyle’s hand, “Go on and recharge, but…maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to leave the ring off while ya sleep, just in case that fever comes back?” he suggested.

“Oo-rah,” Kyle echoed, suddenly missing John. There was always a nice balance when it was the four of them. Or when it was him, John, Guy and Alan. What was that book Guy always talked about? Three Musketeers…except they were four…anyway it made sense somehow, when he explained it.

He nodded in agreement about his ring, but looked a little puzzled. “Constructs and trances? Was I making a lot of funny things? I’m sure it was just the stupid fever, nothing to worry about.” But Guy said trances in plural…blearily, Kyle thought back and realized maybe Guy was referring to when he’d put himself into that coma-stasis thing. “Hm…yeah okay.” He grinned a little crookedly. “What…was I making like giant overly affectionate gummi bears or like marching hammers or something?”

“No, that actually wouldn’t bother me, that’s very you. These things looked strange, like nothin’ I’ve ever seen. Ya had em’ when you were in that coma, an’ then a while ago, when ya couldn’t open yer eyes.” A wave of dizziness washed over him and his ring flashed slightly as it delivered to him a silent warning.

“If ya want to talk about this now, we can, an’ probably should, but I gotta sit down, partner,” his ring lifted him off the floor. “You recharge, I’ll wait for ya in the livin’ room, an’ then I can show you.” As he floated towards their living room, he wondered if perhaps he should have drank that juice the nurse had pushed on him, after all.

Kyle’s eyes widened as he looked at Guy, and he did his best to slowly rush after him, ringing on a uniform for modesty’s sake as he let the towel drop to the floor.

“No no nonono, we can talk later. Damn, you look pretty sick yourself…” Was it a virus of some sort? A thought occurred to him. “Oh mannnn I really hope on top of ALL of this, I didn’t also give everyone food poisoning from the party. Great. Awesome. Ayyy dios.” He prevented his floating friend from sitting, guiding him instead to the bedroom like a human-shaped balloon.

“We’ll talk about it later. You need to sleep, I’ll catch some zz’s too, and we’ll talk in a couple hours, si? C’mon mommy Lantern, you deserve a wee break. You’ve been a champ, man.” Kyle rubbed Guy’s back and gently urged him into his bed. “If you didn’t get Ollie and Kate in time…geez.”

For a moment, he wished he could curl up there as well, like he used to do when Guy was gone; but as much as he still felt wobbly, Kyle was still kind of balking at the idea of sleep. Maybe just a lie-down, for him. Collect his thoughts. Further convince himself that he wasn’t sick. That would be good.

“You good? You need anything before I hit the hay?”

“Relax, I’m not sick, Kyle…I’m just tired. I’m still on Italy time, and I-…” he stopped himself short from telling Kyle about the transfusion. This picture was wrong enough already without his partner worrying even more.

“I’m the one supposed to be looking after you, dammit,” he protested, “I promised Hal…” Guy dissolved his uniform, leaving him in his boxers, and climbed into his bed. It felt very odd, and very familiar. I haven’t felt this bed under me in a month. I’ve missed it.

He lay down and sighed, and looked up at his stubborn partner. “I’m fine, hermano. I’m more worried about you. My condition, I can explain. Yours…you’re ill, and not just normal-ill, and I’d feel better if I could keep an eye on ya.” Guy wanted to ask Kyle outright to just crash here, with him, where he could look after Kyle if he felt sick again, but again he thought better of it; it could be taken wrong. ”Just promise me you’ll take off yer ring, and get some sleep, okay, bro? If something happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

The words were out before he realized it. Damn, he always got mushy and sentimental when he was tired… “Y’know what I mean…” he added wryly, after the fact.

Kyle’s eyebrows raised as he smiled delightedly at Guy. “You promised Hal? Oh you guys…” he couldn’t help but grin at this. Guy and Hal, getting along and talking to each other and the three of them looking out for each other…yes. This was what Kyle needed to hear. Sickness be damned, he didn’t have time for stupid sickness. He smiled more at Guy’s last words, and pushed back Guy’s hair from his forehead.

“Right back at you, Mister,” Kyle said in a mock-stern voice. “Get some rest first. Ass-kicking will come later, when we’re all closer to a hundred percent, more than we are now. And then we’ll go get Roy back.”

Kyle leaned against the bed a bit and nodded. “I’ll see you in a little while. Which ever one of us wakes up first, ‘kay?”

He squeezed Guy’s shoulder and then floated out of the room.

…four hours later…

Guy’s ring alerted him when the message came in, and it was experience that brought him to full wakefulness when it did. The fact he hadn’t slept enough and was technically anaemic never entered the equation, his body simply reacted: eyes snapping open, sitting up, like a soldier at reveille’s trumpet.

[Priority message from Lantern 2814.1. Message as follows: “This is Lantern Jordan to Rayner and Gardner. We’ve got work to do.”]

Guy groggily looked at the clock on his beside table: 3:22 p.m. He’d been out perhaps four, four and a half hours. Jordan might be ready to roll, but was Kyle? Sure, he’d looked a bit better after his shower, but he was still sweating afterwards, Guy recalled. He hoped Kyle wouldn’t have to sit this one out; they’d need every Earth Lantern they could get to capture Roy and control him, and it was bad enough they were already missing John, but if Kyle wasn’t fit for duty, then that was that…not that Guy was doing much better himself.

It went against the promise he’d made to Kyle before about not using his ring to perpetually keep him going when he was ill, but then again, he wasn’t technically ill right now. His ring could provide him the energy that rest would have given him otherwise…as for the anaemia, he realized he could compensate partially for that with extra oxygen intake from his life-support when he was in space. Right. Problem solved. Hopefully.

He gave his ring these instructions and ringed on his uniform, then went to check on Kyle. Odd, he wasn’t in the guest room. Perhaps he’d slept elsewhere? “Kyle?” Not his own room, not the living room… Guy returned to his own room again, puzzled, to recharge his ring fully before he left. That’s when he found the note on his bedside table:

Feeling restless, checking the Arrow penthouse for…clues? Ha ha ha. Then heading up to the Watchtower to see Jaime. Meet me there when you’re awake. Love Kyle
Guy sat on his bed and re-read the note, and rubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t going to even think about this, now, much less feel anything. There was no time for that. Push it down, release it later, somewhere safe, with someONE safe. It’ll have to wait.

He balled up the note and threw it across the room, hitting his wall calendar, the one Kyle had made for the League members. It was still on June, from before he left for Europe, and here July was almost over. He flipped it to the next month and re-hung it. Sunday, July 22. So much for dinner with Kyle and Hal. It’ll have to wait, too. And giving Kyle his birthday presents, talking about those twenty rings he doesn’t remember making, those weird constructs he knows nothing about, the BLACK vomit…

“Fuck, there is NEVER enough TIME!” he roared, punching his fist into the wall making a hole in the plasterboard. Fortunately, he and Kyle hadn’t painted his bedroom mural yet; there hadn’t been enough time.

Push it down.

Release it later.

Somewhere safe.

With someone safe.

With a sardonic laugh he pulled the calendar off the wall and re-hung it over the hole. He’d fix it later, like everything else, when there was time.

3:27 p.m. found Guy materializing from one of the Watchtower’s Zeta tubes and entering the airlock. At 3:28 p.m. he joined solitary and stoic Hal Jordan outside, and gave him a nod of greeting. He didn’t ask about Kate and Ollie; if they were doing worse Hal wouldn’t be out here. According to his Ring, Kyle was still inside.

Rather than waste the time, Guy constructed an electric razor and mirror and gave his face a once-over while they waited for Kyle to join them.