All-white eyes glanced around the white space, looking at the ghosts as they came and went. He was different in this shared headspace, just as much fire as flesh, melting between all of the faces he knew to be his own, like glowing embers shifting across burned wood.

He was still discovering who he was all over again. Even he wasn't certain which face was his, and so he was keeping them all until he could be sure.

"How...?" He turned on his heel, reached for the Emma nearest to him with a hand that had fire shifting over it as though his skin was made of burning oil. "Are they echoes, or reflections, or...?"