[Jon had to force himself to steady his breathing when he hears the steps creaking. Whoever it is is coming down and he has no idea what to expect. And after traveling through that rift, he knows he isn't in any condition to try and fight (and when did tat happen? When did he start to become sure of himself enough that he can take care of himself like that?).

The fog has him on edge. Until he starts looking closer. Its too familiar, too heart-achingly hopeful an idea. But rhe voice has his heart stopping and his great catches in his chest. His dark eyes are wide looking up from where he'd sat on the floor, knees drawn up and elbows resting on them.]

M.. M-martin?