week five, saturday

[He doesn't really want to return to his room. But ultimately, he doesn't have a choice. There is nowhere else for him to go, after all. Sara is in prison, and her room is long empty.

He has no reason to be there.

He sits in his room, on his bed, and watches the clock tick down. He's always been early to bed.

But.

Not tonight.

No, tonight he sits there, with his head in his hands and his fingers buried in his hair, and wonders what the hell he's going to do now, wonders what even is left.

What is even left now?]

week five, saturday

[He doesn't want to go back to his room. But he has to feed Constantine, and thus he can't avoid the hotel forever; he grimaces but begins to head back, steps only slightly unsteady--though if it's from grief or from alcohol, well, it's hard to tell.

His posture is as military straight as ever, after all, and he only needs a moment to process Percy and Mrs. O'Leary chilling there in front of the hotel.

(He's not sure he's ready to deal with this.

On the other hand, he'll never be ready, and Percy... Percy has been almost unbearably brave.)

Words are hard, though; ultimately, he just ends up gently clearing his throat.

Hi.]