Solid light isn't a thing, he types, pressing a little too hard on his comms device as he stubbornly taps out his reply. The very idea of it is ridiculous; Apollo only just manages to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Being paralysed and helpless in space has taken it's toll on his usually sunny personality, it seems.

And no it's not normal, he types again, still scowling as Lapis flits about him.

NOTHING about this place is normal.