W E S S E X
It’s the No that gets her. That breathy sound. It cuts her to her core, because there is no rebuttal. There is only the body in her hands and Evie, there, and she is an unwitting spy on the woman’s grief. It’s different than when Rex and Clem died. Oh, she might have tried to repurpose Rex’s upgrades if Bastien hadn’t been there, but this… vulnerability, this proximity to it is inherently different. And it’s Sam. Her mixed feelings on him probably aren’t helping the roiling mass of something going on inside her.
“I’m sorry, Evie,” she whispers back, head dropping ever so slightly. “Let me… put him somewhere, Gods that sounds insensitive.” Of course, she isn’t meaning to be, and Sam isn’t nearly heavy enough to cause her any kind of discomfort, it just feels… wrong to have her standing outside the door with a body. “He was murdered. I’ll tell you inside.”
And there it is, the start of her own confession of laxity. Every Ascended death is a chip at her heart, a scar carved into her soul, and oh, is she counting.
“I’m sorry, Evie,” she whispers back, head dropping ever so slightly. “Let me… put him somewhere, Gods that sounds insensitive.” Of course, she isn’t meaning to be, and Sam isn’t nearly heavy enough to cause her any kind of discomfort, it just feels… wrong to have her standing outside the door with a body. “He was murdered. I’ll tell you inside.”
And there it is, the start of her own confession of laxity. Every Ascended death is a chip at her heart, a scar carved into her soul, and oh, is she counting.
The Wraith
