Re-building a face and chest over a furnace of apparently endless biokinetic flame was totally easy to do. Honestly, now.

//We're not terribly likely to find anything resembling quiet so long as they're running about,// Jono noted, nodding toward Strat. //But... perhaps... next week, sometime? A week from today?//

A week seemed easy. He had classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and he worked at Groovy Tunes on Tuesdays. Some little responsible shard of his consciousness was pointing out that he'd have a pretty difficult time concentrating on any of the above, if he were to attend them with a complete face of his own for the first time in well over a year.

Longing, apparently, had just won.