At least it's a nice day? It's a very nice day. Xavier is sprawled out in the grass outside the lodge. It looks a little like he might be trying to make snow angels but without snow. Which really isn't that unusual for him, so whatever. Mostly, though, he's just writhing and giggling at everything he sees or thinks about.

The back of his head hurts. His stomach hurts. And yet the laughter still won't stop. He's praying for death to take him, but, he reasons, at least if he survives this his abs will be, like, fucking ripped from all the laughing he's doing. That's a plus, right?

Maybe if he lays here long enough, the sun will cremate him. The thought makes him snort, and the laughter bubbles up all over again.