[The words are gentler than Charles feels he deserves, and they take some of the wind out of him, gradually deflating his anger. He glances around the room, taking in the small, murmuring crowd; all people just like him, with lives and loved ones back home, possibly in peril, their fates unknown.]
Yeah, sorry, I- you're right. [For so long, his world has just been he and Edwin. Even in their line of work, it's always been easy to forget that everyone else has their own shit, their own desperation.] It's a shit situation for everyone.
[He reaches up again to press at his nose, prodding curiously to see if the pain is still there.]
no subject
Yeah, sorry, I- you're right. [For so long, his world has just been he and Edwin. Even in their line of work, it's always been easy to forget that everyone else has their own shit, their own desperation.] It's a shit situation for everyone.
[He reaches up again to press at his nose, prodding curiously to see if the pain is still there.]
Where're you from?