[Nick appears from his room half a second later, his brow knitted together, those glowing eyes of his laden with concern. Of course he's up -- he doesn't sleep. Yet even if he did, he'd have still been awake, working on papers, checking over reports for patterns of activity. No matter what he was doing, he couldn't bury himself in it enough to cover that sense of dread gnawing at the back of his mind.
The Silent Hill zone, of all places -- the spot where the gods had managed to isolate what was left of the fog. It was a permanent reminder of what had happened, of the power some of the people trapped in the city had, of what lengths they'd go to for their freedom. It had been bad enough when it was all over the city. Why would anyone go there willingly?
That's what Nick wants to know. He hopes Rey's risk was worth the trip, especially since he doesn't yet know just why she was taking that risk in the first place. All he knows for certain is the worry he's been feeling for hours as he's waited for word form her, his phone on his desk, only an arm's reach away.
So the second he hears the door close, he's out of his chair and headed to the den; his slow pace keeps him from making it there until after she's called for him, but all he's been trying to bury with his paperwork is still written across his face as he steps through his doorway. He tries to remain impassive, but the tension in his mechanical frame is evident.
She's fine, he tells himself for the tenth or eleventh time -- it's the first time it's mattered, now that she's standing before him. She's more capable than he is in a lot of ways, so of course she's fine. She can take care of herself.
Of course, he's been wrong before, both about Rey and others he's cared for. Times like that are why he's fought with unease all night.
But he does his best to keep it out of his tone as he goes for the understatement of the year.]
[action]
The Silent Hill zone, of all places -- the spot where the gods had managed to isolate what was left of the fog. It was a permanent reminder of what had happened, of the power some of the people trapped in the city had, of what lengths they'd go to for their freedom. It had been bad enough when it was all over the city. Why would anyone go there willingly?
That's what Nick wants to know. He hopes Rey's risk was worth the trip, especially since he doesn't yet know just why she was taking that risk in the first place. All he knows for certain is the worry he's been feeling for hours as he's waited for word form her, his phone on his desk, only an arm's reach away.
So the second he hears the door close, he's out of his chair and headed to the den; his slow pace keeps him from making it there until after she's called for him, but all he's been trying to bury with his paperwork is still written across his face as he steps through his doorway. He tries to remain impassive, but the tension in his mechanical frame is evident.
She's fine, he tells himself for the tenth or eleventh time -- it's the first time it's mattered, now that she's standing before him. She's more capable than he is in a lot of ways, so of course she's fine. She can take care of herself.
Of course, he's been wrong before, both about Rey and others he's cared for. Times like that are why he's fought with unease all night.
But he does his best to keep it out of his tone as he goes for the understatement of the year.]
I was starting to get worried.