Kevin’s never had to sleep on the Grid, but he still needs to rest. And so do they.
The three of them sit on the roof of Tron’s headquarters, Clu at one side of him and Tron at the other, and they look out over the cityscape. It’s sprawling, magnificent—and still unfinished, not quite to either Kevin or Clu’s satisfaction. If he could—if either of them could—they’d work constantly, endless day to endless night, until it was simply perfect.
But this is nice, too. The exhaustion in his bones is less heavy and more comfortable, a blanket, and the warmth at either side of him is soothing. He leans into it, body, mind, and soul, and they lean back.
Clu’s the one who speaks first. Even now, he’s working. And he says, his tone a little stiff, “I have some ideas about the games.”
“They can wait,” Kevin replies. His eyes are starting to drift closed, and he rests his head on Tron’s shoulder. He meets Clu’s gaze, though, sees the tense lines around his mouth, and he slips a hand into his. Reassuring, he hopes. “Trust me on this.”
Clu looks like he’s going to argue. But then Tron rests his own head atop Kevin’s, and Clu huffs a sigh.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Clu says, but he doesn’t let go of Kevin’s hand.