He is ANGRY and FRUSTRATED. There is a hopeless, sinking feeling with his gut and he hates it. For the third time, standing helplessly by as he watches a chance at survival to crumble away. Or in this case, SMASHED. But when he wants to turn that onto the fisa, he finds that he can’t. He simply feels dubious. And maybe he is too tired to right now to fight with anyone. He has fought enough for one day. And when his icy eyes settle upon the woman, alone towards the corner of the kitchen, he doesn’t have any poisonous words in him. She looks so broken. She looks like he feels.
Roan’s gaze shifts away, turning downward until he sees a bottle. He quietly squats down near the cupboard and pulls out the glass. It’s a rare occasion in which he divulges in souda, but this isn’t for him. He stands up and walks over to the table, setting the bottle down and silently sliding it towards her. He eyes her shrewdly a few moments, brows furrowed in thought. Mind still churning and coming up with questions that aren’t entirely RELEVANT, but he wants answers anyway. “ I don’t get it. ” He finally says, no accusation in his voice though it is filled with the usual gruff tone. “ You were RESOLVED… ” Strong. And then she broke.