He glanced over, then accepted the hug. He staggered against him as his leg gave out. His clothes changed because how he fundamentally was seeing himself changed.

Gone was Super Greg, the white magic hero.

He was back to being what he had been most of his life. Just plain old Greg. The crippled younger brother with the blight eating his leg - not that she could see it under the long pants, socks, boots, and tunic shirt he now wore - and the weakness that meant no one ever counted on him for anything other than comic relief.