It was different for him being told that Skye had made it after all. Trip didn't focus on the team mourning his death or some of the aftermath that followed San Juan. In fact, very little had registered after hearing his friend hadn't died how he thought. The same could probably be said about seeing him and hopefully it was understood when Trip charged out to find her. Only, she wasn't in the room he'd been told about.

Coulson would find her and tell her. Or Fitz. Maybe even his neighbor. Antoine decided to stay put and wait. What else did he have to do? He didn't know the hotel like the rest of them. No longer did he care about where they were and how they'd gotten there. All Trip desperately wanted was to have some other image in his mind other than failing Skye. Maybe after reuniting with her, it would strike him how hungry everyone else looked.

The door flung open (all tactical caution thrown to the wind) and he stood looking much like the last time she saw him (t-shirt, jeans, boots) minus the bandage on his arm and bleeding through his shirt. And of course, him crumbling apart.

"Aren't you a sight for sore..." he had started to quip through an instant smile at first sight. The grin notably faded as he took in her condition. Thin, pale and looked as if she'd crawled out from under the rock he last saw her covered in. "...eyes. Damn, Girl. What happened? Should you even be on your feet?" Antoine assumed someone had already told her he was back and didn't hesitate to immediately engulf her in an arm (very carefully) to usher her into his room.

At least he had some medical training. It didn't look as if anyone had been tending to her. His heart lurched in every way possible.