Mo has to close his eyes for a moment. Briefly, he's angry in a way that rarely comes to him - this whole situation is terribly cruel, and whoever created the damn spell that brings them here had no regard for the damage it would inflict on people. He's all for fighting the good fight, but tearing people from their homes and dangling those they care about on a short leash is so selfish he nearly yells.

He can easily admit that he's more than a little biased about Alex's well-being.

"No," Mo says, sharper than he means to, and winces faintly when he shifts just far enough away that he can look Alex in the eyes. "It still matters, right now, for you. Just because you'll forget it later doesn't mean it's any less important, Alex.

Damn it all. Against his better judgement (the judgement of the psychiatrist, not the friend, he notes absently), Mo tilts his head to touch their foreheads together. "You, and all that you encompass, are no less important just because you're stuck in a different reality."