Kieren hears the giant clang and flinches at it, curling up in the corner of his studio with a giant pad of paper on his knees (drawn into his chest) and a pencil clutched in his fingers. He's not really wanting to draw, but he's not sure that he can sit downstairs and listen to Sirius talk about how weak and fragile he is just because he's human again. As if Kieren doesn't know what dying feels like, as if he's somehow not ready to fight again.

The pencil is pressed to the paper and he just closes his eyes, trying to shut out the world and all the feelings he hasn't got a clue how to process. He trudges to his feet to turn the lights off, grasping a blanket to throw over his head as if to mimic a cavern, as if to mimic his and Rick's cavern, where no sensory overload can affect him and he can try and focus on feeling something but this.