Everything seemed to stop for Owlman. They'd done it. They'd really done it. Aya's reluctance to answer said so much more than any explanation ever could. He hung there, arms in the air, like a statue struggling to come to terms. Leveld. his home. His friends. His dreams. He could feel them in his mind, crumbling away under the pressure of the questions echoing in his head. What had happened? Was anyone still alive? Even if they got off the ship did he have anything to go back to?

Then she tugged his hand, and he followed as though he was on autopilot. He saw things, but they didn't register. He heard things, but did they matter? As he trumped into the room after Aya and Light the strange alien plants actually gave his some measure of peace. Nostalgia took over as the Owlman moved past them, looking to the left and right.

[i]This was pretty homey[/i], his owl brain thought blankly.