The dragon (because, yes, that was definitely a dragon) backed up and someone else came into view. Her rider. He was painfully familiar, the ache in his head slowly but steadily crawling toward a migraine. Flickers of old memory surfaced, slotting themselves back into place, going too fast for him to process anything more than the pure emotion associated with them (trustfaithfriendshiplove?) and it nearly stole his breath.

Then, Lance said his name.

He couldn't comprehend it. For all that his education had given him a firm grasp of the world, knowing what was proven while learning how to prove the unknown, nothing else could have shaken him as badly. Sefton stared up at Lance, Ptera buried in his peripheral vision, because Lance hadn't aged a day past what he could remember, not a day in ten years, and that just added even more to the impossibility of the situation.

Cringing, he pressed his palm into his eye, partially to block out the light and partially to try and keep the memories from spilling out his ears. Moving his hand away after a moment, he gave Lance a wobbly smile in spite of everything else. "Hi."