Firefly Glen due to an internal explosion, it breaks into two parts

While Yosemite had his perennial existential crisis, Nine was thinking-- a rare occurence that had, for better or for worse, gotten more common after his split with Mollie.

Muggy and quiet, the night was infinitely calmer without Yosemite's frantic anxieties, so he was left to his own devices. He finds, with a vague dismay, that he'd grown to like the boy's chattering. Like playing a vinyl riddled with scratches and letting the stuttering music fill the room, there was a dysfunctional security in not being alone with nothing else to hear.

He returns with poppies in hand. Nine grins, customarily sardonic, and mutters a thanks before tonguing some seeds into his mouth. 

Right, he stretches, shakes out his hands and feet. Let's look for some freshly dead things. 

Despite the poppy seeds slowly taking effect, he's careful not to put too much weight on his leg, and so starts their walk into the dawn with a slight limp, grass whispering against his heels.