Hell always brings people back when they die, or so Jesper had been led to believe in his time here. He knows that people come and go, but he has to believe that Wylan is a bit more of a permanent figure than that. He has to believe he'll come around like he himself had--that the last thing he'd remember of him here wouldn't be a dying scream and the wet sounds of blood behind a solid door.

Regardless, he hasn't seen him since. The fog was too thick, too littered with monsters and dangers. Too filled with chances to lose him again if he did manage to find him. So Jesper had focused on survival. And he had taken a few more risks to send some of the beasts on their way, a bit more reckless with shots and ammo, and a bit more forceful when he ripped spent bullets from corpses? Well, that was all payment for the debt they wracked up by handing him that loss. He wouldn't be telling Wylan any of that.

But the fog was dissipating now, and the horrors with it. He hasn't slept, refusing to rest even now that there was safety to do so. Instead, he was anxiously roaming the halls and lobby, wondering where Wylan might show his face. And that currently had him slinking up to their floor, heading to the other boy's room--maybe that would be a good place to wait.