It’s an odd moment of relaxation from Daniel, a departure from how intently and vacantly he used to stare out the window at the airport. Watching the encroaching dead as if he were simply waiting for his turn to join them. But there are none of them at their doorstep now, nothing but a silent parking lot outside, and there are only so many times he can unload and reload his gun, his mind refusing to fixate on a task it isn’t really required for.
Instead he’s focusing on the book in his lap, something found on one of the church’s bookshelves, and he hasn’t decided yet if it should strike him as odd to find Dante’s Inferno or not. Maybe just fitting.
There’s a glance up as someone approaches, head lifting from his book the moment the shadow appears in the corner of his vision. There’s little to no reaction, because he doesn’t feel much either way for most people, but however little he knows about her, she has yet to make the silence he carries himself with feel like an awkward thing.
“Nora.”
@nora-judd
