[ and he's not phased. or- rather. not that he isn't phased, no one could seriously be surviving this and be unconcerned, entirely. but he is steady. as karen panics, as she reaches highs and frantics and lows and then settles back again, he is steady. even as she says wait, even as she speaks like she's the one comforting.
now we wait she says, and even so it takes another second, then two, before she exhales. because there isn't really anything else for them to do, is there? they have to trust this stranger, this man who she barely even saw his face, but she believes that he'll try. that this will work. that they'll get out.
there's a brief moment where she just sort of closes her eyes - she doesn't want to keep looking at the water. she doesn't want to convince herself that anything is getting worse, when it's now far beyond them. they have to trust- and she can. she can trust this man. this stranger out in the hall. just like she's trusting-
his voice catches her and she comes back to the moment, jumping a bit as she's realizing he's trying to... what? talk? have casual conversation? ]
A week or so? But this was my first- [ she huffs a kind of laugh that is a little self-deprecating as she gestures around the room. ] My first fluxdrift, I guess is what they call it. Some luck.
[ there's a pause, and she can't help the way she laughs again, breathily, before shaking her head. it's... god. it's a little embarrassing, how much it helps. how she already feels a little better. she turns, tucking the binder to her chest out of habit and some subconscious need to protect the information, even as there isn't anything else to be done about it. ]
[ It wouldn't occur to him to consider himself steady, at least on the outside, though he's trying to keep himself that way for her until they're out of here. There's something to be said, though, for her just as much, whether she's even aware.
He asked about the binder, she knew where it was, she grabbed it, held it up to the glass so the guy could see. It's one foot in front of the other, that sort of thing; doing what they need to do, what they can do, to get out of here. Point is, he could turn and look at her, ask, and trust her to grab it.
The room is dark, inescapable for the moment, the water creeps at them; it's eerie, in a way, that sort of promise that at any minute it could rise again and choke them, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't grip him in a way, the kind of way where even though breathing is just automatic, you can't trust your next breath to come steady.
He doesn't like being trapped in the dark, but there are things anchoring him right now, little things maybe: there's room to move, there's a little light from the screens, from the flashes out there in the storm, there's the sound of the rain marking time, and her voice. He doesn't know her, but she's been nothing but kind. Right now, that's all he really needs. A voice in the dark. It could be anyone, really, but in this place it's just him — far from his crew. So it's not just anyone, it's her.
He sees that jump, notes it, makes sure to keep his voice level, calm. Despite the unease about the situation, he's mostly how he always is: just here, existing, being in the moment in the only way he can be. Which is why, maybe, his response to her question might sound unconcerned. ]
And be predictable? Nah. [ He manages a brief smile almost under his breath. ] It's gonna get better, it's gonna get worse — that's the Churn. We're just caught in it, that's all.
[ His brand of wisdom, for what it's worth. And the thought surfaces — ]
[ maybe not, but that is the impression he's giving off, and it is working. it does help. she doesn't mean to be as easily affected as she is by all of this, either - especially when she knows they're at a key moment where there really isn't anything within their control to contribute or even change.
but maybe that's why she's as affected as she is. there's no task, no one else she has to hold it together for. nothing to focus on, while they sit and try not to look into the shadowed faces in the water, while she tries to ignore the fact she's pretty sure she can feel the water rising up her legs.
for a brief moment, it is just the two of them and the slowly rising tide. the eerie pressure of the room, and the sound of water, of dripping, of rain, and the one clear thought karen has is that she is so glad to not be alone.
the churn he calls it, and karen's head tilts a little, finding herself interested in the expression. the turn of phrase. despite herself, she ends up smiling, just a little. relaxing, just a little more. ] I like that- the churn. It... it really fits.
[ it's good wisdom, for what it's worth, and seems to... it doesn't comfort her, exactly, but there is something in the confidence in his statement that helps. she nods, more to herself than anything, and the hold she has around the binder relaxes a little.
and then, in that almost afterthought- amos. ]
Karen. [ she leans back against the window - trying to be casual, in a way, or maybe just trying to keep themselves distracted. ] Where are you from, Amos? Back home, I mean. [ there isn't any ulterior motive to the question, it's obvious karen is just trying to keep the conversation going while they both pretend they're not waiting for the stranger outside the window to return. ]
[ In all honesty, he thinks she's doing about as good as most people. Better, actually, in a way. He can think of plenty he's run across who would have gone into full on panics by now. Feelings can come and go, being trapped like this; the fear rises and relaxes, rises and relaxes. At least, that's his observation of people in situations like this. He can't relate to the feeling much himself, he's just — here. Through it.
But he's saying and doing some things that seem to be the right things for now, something that's fitting, she says. Okay. Yeah. He'll take that. Likes the idea, maybe, the way it makes her smile for a moment. That's a good thing, too.
Karen. Makes it more official now. Not just strangers in a flooded room. He gives a little nod to acknowledge what she's said. ]
I'm from Baltimore, but home is out in space on the Rocinante — frigate. Martian Navy had her first. Cap calls the shots now.
[ He fully realizes 'Cap' would be meaningless to her; Martian might be even more — unknown, given the people he's run into here so far. And her mention of that friend in high school with a Jeep. Wouldn't have been a thing in his time. But he's not one to necessarily front load with a lot of detail. She asked a question and he answered it. Rather than go on about himself, he turns it back: ]
[ she doesn't know if any of this is the right thing, or the wrong thing, for what they're doing. what she does know is that it helps, that even this easy conversation helps. the more he asks, or answers, or just talks to her, the more karen feels like she can focus on them instead of the space around them.
if she let herself slip far enough into the image of it, they could be just about anywhere. they could be outside in the rain, even, chatting as they waited for the bus. even as the water rises around their legs, she can almost pretend.
Baltimore he says, and she smiles, glad for something familiar. but then he continues, says things like out in space and martian navy and cap and karen's head tilts a little, confusion taking over. ]
Sorry- space? As in like, aliens? [ everyone knows about the chitauri, about new york, about those big heroes and super powers and how the world has changed since. karen's life has been focused on her world, on hells kitchen and new york and the people who get forgotten in the face of that.
but... something about amos makes her think it's not that. that there's something else a little different going on here. ]
Ah- New York. [ it's not that she's sheepish, but saying new york in the face of in space, it's just. a little different. ] Hell's Kitchen, but. Yeah.
Yeah, some, but — probably not what you're thinkin'. [ He's fairly sure that in their wildest dreams, no one could have thought up something like the protomolecule existing out there. If anything could be called a nightmare, it's that. And while there's plenty of shit going on between Earth and Mars and the Belt, that other threat's still always there. ]
And I was there, just before this. New York.
[ Not Hell's Kitchen, but it's a frame of reference, at least. Something familiar. And there's a whole long story to that and why he was there, but not something for now. He doesn't mind talking to her — likes it, actually — but the longer they do talk, the more he starts to wonder if their guy is doing anything, can do anything. And when he thinks that, he starts to consider what else they can do if and when that ends up being their reality.
He doesn't want to be passive in all of this. And he's got a responsibility to try — what he can. He's not alone in here, after all. So he starts to move back towards the window, kneels a little so the water's just about to his shoulders, and he starts to just feel around there. Anything that could be a way to break the glass; sure, it hadn't worked until now, but while he's still breathing, he'll do what he can. Maybe there's something they missed. He's still close enough to her, though, and looks over to her. ]
[ there's a flicker of a frown at how.... it isn't casual, how he says it, but it is different. not what you're thinking. does he mean not the little green men? is he assuming that's what she's thinking? this isn't the first time she's really thinking about how they don't all come from the the same ideas of places, how new york could be one way for her, and some way completely different for someone else. but, almost in spite of herself, as he mentions being in new york, she thinks of her's. of home.
there's a sharp tightness in her chest at that. of home. of how they are sitting here, talking about home, while the water continues to rise. ]
Y-you were? [ the stutter isn't from anything specific, other than the fact amos's eyes are now moving, and he's moving, and she realizes a second or so later that he's moving to the window and kneels down, starts to... she's not sure. feel along the glass? she steps a half-step to the side as he kneels down next to her, and she blinks, her body not quite processing whether or not she needs to still feel relieved or if she should start feeling panicked again. the rise and fall of adrenaline is exhausting her, but karen knows that amos is right.
because what are they supposed to do, if the man from the other side of the window doesn't return?
she swallows, and with the binder still held to her chest, she starts looking around - trying to find anything that could be helpful. her eyes hover on something strange up in the ceiling, a dark shadow that looks...wrong, somehow. but his voice brings her back before too long. ]
Um. [ you grew up there? she shakes her head. ] No- I uh. I'm from Vermont. Tiny town in the mountains. I moved to New York a few years ago. For ah- it doesn't matter. [ she doesn't know if she has it in her to get into the why. ] Hell's Kitchen's been home for a bit now. [ amos is searching for something, and karen wants to help. she just doesn't know how she can, so she steps away from the glass, notices the way the water is almost cresting over his shoulders. she swallows. ]
[ He hears something in her voice, something — it stops the movement of his hands, and despite the water lapping at his shoulders, he turns his head to try and meet her eyes, to hold steady. ]
He will or he won't. But we got us.
[ Even to his own ears, even with the general I'm just here existing state of mind he inhabits daily, those words sound a little — less than encouraging. But it's all he knows. And he trusts in the two of them right now, while they're still here, and have an ability to control something about this situation.
Even if that means trying to tug on or break glass that doesn't have a chance in hell of budging. He sure hopes the guy comes back, though. And it's proving to be useless to find anything at all beneath the water, so Amos stands again, moves closer to her. For a moment, he reaches out to rest his hands on her shoulders, like maybe that could offer — something. What, he doesn't know exactly, it's just the way she's talking, the way she's holding that binder like it's a lifeline. It's a thought then, to ask more about — not Vermont, nah, it's New York that's home, she said. So he thinks about asking, in a minute, he'll come back to it.
Before he can say or do anything else, though, he glances around, just looking for anything at all that he might have missed, and as his eyes drift up, he sees those shadows, too. It's not normal, that's clear pretty quick, but what —
Suddenly there's a sound near the doors. It's almost faint, almost easy to miss with the rain and the water, but it's like a groaning sound, then a few mechanical clicks. What they don't know immediately is the guy did get it unlocked. The doors are about to swing open, but those shadows start to swarm and now it feels like the water in the building is swirling like a current, like they're being pulled up, at the same time the doors finally swing open. ]
Shit. Hold on —
[ Instinct, at least, takes over, and those hands on her shoulders grip her tighter, attempting to pull her closer before either one of them gets yanked away from the other, up into the — the fucking sky? ]
Edited (that feeling when you write a tag late at night and wake up and realize you wanted to add more sorry~) 2025-06-25 15:47 (UTC)
[ he stops, and karen almost feels bad for it - for distracting him, for sounding like she needs the help, the encouragement, or... not encouragement, exactly, but when amos pauses and looks back at her, it is that steadiness once again. whether or not what it is he says is encouraging (it's really not, in the grand scheme of things) but it is true.
they do have each other. and karen's not helping either of them by simply standing around. she holds his eyes for a moment, and then a moment before, before she nods - he's right. he is. they do only have each other. and if something happened to that man, just like this happened to them, then- karen takes a breath to steady herself (to uncertain results) and starts to look around them, frantic but now at least with a job. she doesn't find much in a way of cracks in the wall, anything at all.
amos appears to be just as unsuccessful as he stands, and karen - without really thinking about it - also takes a step or so closer to him, almost subconsciously needing the comfort. she's still looking at the window when she feels his hands come to her shoulders, and it's what fully brings her eyes back to his own. she's exhausted, hanging on by a kind of thread, but she isn't giving up. she hasn't, not fully, and a large reason for that is because of him. when he looks at her, she expects him to ask her another question, something else to distract them both by the passing time, and she waits for his words to follow. she doesn't even think about how her hand comes up to grab the fabric of his (now soaking) jacket, or shirt, or whatever it is he's wearing - one arm still wrapped around the binder, but the other now clutched in the fabric of his clothes at his side.
he looks around - one last time - and it's karen's turn now to speak. ] Amos. Hey- [ it's an attempt to get his attention back on her, and not on whatever it is that surrounds them. not on the uncomfortable shadows in the ceiling, or the faces that haunt them in the water. she even goes as far as to let go of his side and set her hand on his chest, trying to get his attention back on her, trying to keep them both settled for just a little longer, when-
the noise. she freezes, suddenly unsure if she hallucinated it. it came from the window, from the creases along the outside of the glass, but...can she let herself believe it? can she get hopeful? she turns to it, wondering if that groan, if those mechanical noises, if it's working.
except that as soon as karen starts to think it might just be that easy, that this might be their way out, she starts to feel the tug. she frowns, her eyes moving upwards towards the feeling and-
shit, hold on. that's amos. his hands on her shoulders grip her tighter, and karen suddenly realizes what's happening, what that mass in the ceiling must be doing. her eyes widen, not even sure what to make of that, right as the glass at her back starts to make another groaning noise. the window, the window is opening, they just have to-
water and errant papers around the room start to lift halfhazardly upwards, pulled by whatever suction is dragging at them too, but karen refuses to believe it. no, not what they're this close. her eyes go back to the glass pane, and she convinces herself she sees it moving, barely, but it is- it's opening, and they're going to get out of here, they just have to-
karen let's go of the binder, using both of her hands to grab hold of each of amos' sides. the sound of everything around them starts to rise, something about the suction, whatever is trying to drag them upwards, creating a low roar that feels like it's growing, louder and louder. she leans in close, having to raise her voice to get over the noise of it. ]
The window! It's opening! We just have to wait it out! [ karen can feel the air tugging at her jacket, her hair. it's getting stronger, slowly but it is. she widens her stands a little, stepping back and pulling amos with her, that much closer to the glass. ] Hold onto me, okay?!
[ Amos. Hey — her voice, her hands at his sides first, then his chest. What she's trying to do (he thinks), it works for that fraction of a moment, keeps him from getting caught up in those shadows, the things he's been seeing in this room from the start, the way it's fucking with his head, and then — everything that's coming.
It'll come anyway, and it does. He almost covers her hand, in the way he thinks maybe he should, to acknowledge, to help her, too. But then everything just happens, and —
Guess you were right, he thinks, but doesn't say. The guy came back. Kinda.
Why the hell he thought if this guy actually did the thing and got the code entered, got them free, that things would just open up, simple as that, and they'd be able to get out of here. Why did he think even think that? Trapped in a flooded office that's shown him things he's been trying real damn hard to not even think about, things that no one and nothing should be able to know — why would anything that came next be normal?
Truthfully, he wasn't putting a lot of thought into what this would look like, exactly, if they did get rescued. Either they would die in here or get out. How exactly they would get from here to there — stepping back outside into that stormy night — he didn't care to think on, just figured he'd count them lucky for getting out at all.
But now, nothing just opens in a normal way, there's a whole thing now, where there's a not-small chance one or both of them might get sucked up into the goddamn sky, and he'd say he's at least a bit worried now. Not enough to convey much outwardly apart from an increased tension in his shoulders. His heart starts to pick up just a little, that feeling like they're on the edge of something and it's all about to break and if they don't hold tight enough to each other —
Alright, well, shit. Holding on to each other like hell is about all they've got for the seconds that tick by. He feels Karen shift her feet a little, and he does the same, trying to plant his legs more firmly, though he moves with her closer to the glass. He likes to think he's got a lot of strength, enough to keep her with him, but he doesn't entirely know what they're up against. It's a loud fury, everything all around them, and Amos' voice raises in return: ]
I got you!
[ Thing is, he knows she's got him, too. At least, as much as she can. She's a hell of a lot smaller than him, but he doesn't doubt for a second that she'll anchor with all her might. ]
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now we wait she says, and even so it takes another second, then two, before she exhales. because there isn't really anything else for them to do, is there? they have to trust this stranger, this man who she barely even saw his face, but she believes that he'll try. that this will work. that they'll get out.
there's a brief moment where she just sort of closes her eyes - she doesn't want to keep looking at the water. she doesn't want to convince herself that anything is getting worse, when it's now far beyond them. they have to trust- and she can. she can trust this man. this stranger out in the hall. just like she's trusting-
his voice catches her and she comes back to the moment, jumping a bit as she's realizing he's trying to... what? talk? have casual conversation? ]
A week or so? But this was my first- [ she huffs a kind of laugh that is a little self-deprecating as she gestures around the room. ] My first fluxdrift, I guess is what they call it. Some luck.
[ there's a pause, and she can't help the way she laughs again, breathily, before shaking her head. it's... god. it's a little embarrassing, how much it helps. how she already feels a little better. she turns, tucking the binder to her chest out of habit and some subconscious need to protect the information, even as there isn't anything else to be done about it. ]
You don't think they're all like this, do you?
no subject
He asked about the binder, she knew where it was, she grabbed it, held it up to the glass so the guy could see. It's one foot in front of the other, that sort of thing; doing what they need to do, what they can do, to get out of here. Point is, he could turn and look at her, ask, and trust her to grab it.
The room is dark, inescapable for the moment, the water creeps at them; it's eerie, in a way, that sort of promise that at any minute it could rise again and choke them, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't grip him in a way, the kind of way where even though breathing is just automatic, you can't trust your next breath to come steady.
He doesn't like being trapped in the dark, but there are things anchoring him right now, little things maybe: there's room to move, there's a little light from the screens, from the flashes out there in the storm, there's the sound of the rain marking time, and her voice. He doesn't know her, but she's been nothing but kind. Right now, that's all he really needs. A voice in the dark. It could be anyone, really, but in this place it's just him — far from his crew. So it's not just anyone, it's her.
He sees that jump, notes it, makes sure to keep his voice level, calm. Despite the unease about the situation, he's mostly how he always is: just here, existing, being in the moment in the only way he can be. Which is why, maybe, his response to her question might sound unconcerned. ]
And be predictable? Nah. [ He manages a brief smile almost under his breath. ] It's gonna get better, it's gonna get worse — that's the Churn. We're just caught in it, that's all.
[ His brand of wisdom, for what it's worth. And the thought surfaces — ]
I'm Amos.
no subject
but maybe that's why she's as affected as she is. there's no task, no one else she has to hold it together for. nothing to focus on, while they sit and try not to look into the shadowed faces in the water, while she tries to ignore the fact she's pretty sure she can feel the water rising up her legs.
for a brief moment, it is just the two of them and the slowly rising tide. the eerie pressure of the room, and the sound of water, of dripping, of rain, and the one clear thought karen has is that she is so glad to not be alone.
the churn he calls it, and karen's head tilts a little, finding herself interested in the expression. the turn of phrase. despite herself, she ends up smiling, just a little. relaxing, just a little more. ] I like that- the churn. It... it really fits.
[ it's good wisdom, for what it's worth, and seems to... it doesn't comfort her, exactly, but there is something in the confidence in his statement that helps. she nods, more to herself than anything, and the hold she has around the binder relaxes a little.
and then, in that almost afterthought- amos. ]
Karen. [ she leans back against the window - trying to be casual, in a way, or maybe just trying to keep themselves distracted. ] Where are you from, Amos? Back home, I mean. [ there isn't any ulterior motive to the question, it's obvious karen is just trying to keep the conversation going while they both pretend they're not waiting for the stranger outside the window to return. ]
no subject
But he's saying and doing some things that seem to be the right things for now, something that's fitting, she says. Okay. Yeah. He'll take that. Likes the idea, maybe, the way it makes her smile for a moment. That's a good thing, too.
Karen. Makes it more official now. Not just strangers in a flooded room. He gives a little nod to acknowledge what she's said. ]
I'm from Baltimore, but home is out in space on the Rocinante — frigate. Martian Navy had her first. Cap calls the shots now.
[ He fully realizes 'Cap' would be meaningless to her; Martian might be even more — unknown, given the people he's run into here so far. And her mention of that friend in high school with a Jeep. Wouldn't have been a thing in his time. But he's not one to necessarily front load with a lot of detail. She asked a question and he answered it. Rather than go on about himself, he turns it back: ]
You?
no subject
if she let herself slip far enough into the image of it, they could be just about anywhere. they could be outside in the rain, even, chatting as they waited for the bus. even as the water rises around their legs, she can almost pretend.
Baltimore he says, and she smiles, glad for something familiar. but then he continues, says things like out in space and martian navy and cap and karen's head tilts a little, confusion taking over. ]
Sorry- space? As in like, aliens? [ everyone knows about the chitauri, about new york, about those big heroes and super powers and how the world has changed since. karen's life has been focused on her world, on hells kitchen and new york and the people who get forgotten in the face of that.
but... something about amos makes her think it's not that. that there's something else a little different going on here. ]
Ah- New York. [ it's not that she's sheepish, but saying new york in the face of in space, it's just. a little different. ] Hell's Kitchen, but. Yeah.
no subject
And I was there, just before this. New York.
[ Not Hell's Kitchen, but it's a frame of reference, at least. Something familiar. And there's a whole long story to that and why he was there, but not something for now. He doesn't mind talking to her — likes it, actually — but the longer they do talk, the more he starts to wonder if their guy is doing anything, can do anything. And when he thinks that, he starts to consider what else they can do if and when that ends up being their reality.
He doesn't want to be passive in all of this. And he's got a responsibility to try — what he can. He's not alone in here, after all. So he starts to move back towards the window, kneels a little so the water's just about to his shoulders, and he starts to just feel around there. Anything that could be a way to break the glass; sure, it hadn't worked until now, but while he's still breathing, he'll do what he can. Maybe there's something they missed. He's still close enough to her, though, and looks over to her. ]
Keep talking. You grew up there?
no subject
there's a sharp tightness in her chest at that. of home. of how they are sitting here, talking about home, while the water continues to rise. ]
Y-you were? [ the stutter isn't from anything specific, other than the fact amos's eyes are now moving, and he's moving, and she realizes a second or so later that he's moving to the window and kneels down, starts to... she's not sure. feel along the glass? she steps a half-step to the side as he kneels down next to her, and she blinks, her body not quite processing whether or not she needs to still feel relieved or if she should start feeling panicked again. the rise and fall of adrenaline is exhausting her, but karen knows that amos is right.
because what are they supposed to do, if the man from the other side of the window doesn't return?
she swallows, and with the binder still held to her chest, she starts looking around - trying to find anything that could be helpful. her eyes hover on something strange up in the ceiling, a dark shadow that looks...wrong, somehow. but his voice brings her back before too long. ]
Um. [ you grew up there? she shakes her head. ] No- I uh. I'm from Vermont. Tiny town in the mountains. I moved to New York a few years ago. For ah- it doesn't matter. [ she doesn't know if she has it in her to get into the why. ] Hell's Kitchen's been home for a bit now. [ amos is searching for something, and karen wants to help. she just doesn't know how she can, so she steps away from the glass, notices the way the water is almost cresting over his shoulders. she swallows. ]
Amos- he'll be back.
[ right? ]
no subject
He will or he won't. But we got us.
[ Even to his own ears, even with the general I'm just here existing state of mind he inhabits daily, those words sound a little — less than encouraging. But it's all he knows. And he trusts in the two of them right now, while they're still here, and have an ability to control something about this situation.
Even if that means trying to tug on or break glass that doesn't have a chance in hell of budging. He sure hopes the guy comes back, though. And it's proving to be useless to find anything at all beneath the water, so Amos stands again, moves closer to her. For a moment, he reaches out to rest his hands on her shoulders, like maybe that could offer — something. What, he doesn't know exactly, it's just the way she's talking, the way she's holding that binder like it's a lifeline. It's a thought then, to ask more about — not Vermont, nah, it's New York that's home, she said. So he thinks about asking, in a minute, he'll come back to it.
Before he can say or do anything else, though, he glances around, just looking for anything at all that he might have missed, and as his eyes drift up, he sees those shadows, too. It's not normal, that's clear pretty quick, but what —
Suddenly there's a sound near the doors. It's almost faint, almost easy to miss with the rain and the water, but it's like a groaning sound, then a few mechanical clicks. What they don't know immediately is the guy did get it unlocked. The doors are about to swing open, but those shadows start to swarm and now it feels like the water in the building is swirling like a current, like they're being pulled up, at the same time the doors finally swing open. ]
Shit. Hold on —
[ Instinct, at least, takes over, and those hands on her shoulders grip her tighter, attempting to pull her closer before either one of them gets yanked away from the other, up into the — the fucking sky? ]
no subject
they do have each other. and karen's not helping either of them by simply standing around. she holds his eyes for a moment, and then a moment before, before she nods - he's right. he is. they do only have each other. and if something happened to that man, just like this happened to them, then- karen takes a breath to steady herself (to uncertain results) and starts to look around them, frantic but now at least with a job. she doesn't find much in a way of cracks in the wall, anything at all.
amos appears to be just as unsuccessful as he stands, and karen - without really thinking about it - also takes a step or so closer to him, almost subconsciously needing the comfort. she's still looking at the window when she feels his hands come to her shoulders, and it's what fully brings her eyes back to his own. she's exhausted, hanging on by a kind of thread, but she isn't giving up. she hasn't, not fully, and a large reason for that is because of him. when he looks at her, she expects him to ask her another question, something else to distract them both by the passing time, and she waits for his words to follow. she doesn't even think about how her hand comes up to grab the fabric of his (now soaking) jacket, or shirt, or whatever it is he's wearing - one arm still wrapped around the binder, but the other now clutched in the fabric of his clothes at his side.
he looks around - one last time - and it's karen's turn now to speak. ] Amos. Hey- [ it's an attempt to get his attention back on her, and not on whatever it is that surrounds them. not on the uncomfortable shadows in the ceiling, or the faces that haunt them in the water. she even goes as far as to let go of his side and set her hand on his chest, trying to get his attention back on her, trying to keep them both settled for just a little longer, when-
the noise. she freezes, suddenly unsure if she hallucinated it. it came from the window, from the creases along the outside of the glass, but...can she let herself believe it? can she get hopeful? she turns to it, wondering if that groan, if those mechanical noises, if it's working.
except that as soon as karen starts to think it might just be that easy, that this might be their way out, she starts to feel the tug. she frowns, her eyes moving upwards towards the feeling and-
shit, hold on. that's amos. his hands on her shoulders grip her tighter, and karen suddenly realizes what's happening, what that mass in the ceiling must be doing. her eyes widen, not even sure what to make of that, right as the glass at her back starts to make another groaning noise. the window, the window is opening, they just have to-
water and errant papers around the room start to lift halfhazardly upwards, pulled by whatever suction is dragging at them too, but karen refuses to believe it. no, not what they're this close. her eyes go back to the glass pane, and she convinces herself she sees it moving, barely, but it is- it's opening, and they're going to get out of here, they just have to-
karen let's go of the binder, using both of her hands to grab hold of each of amos' sides. the sound of everything around them starts to rise, something about the suction, whatever is trying to drag them upwards, creating a low roar that feels like it's growing, louder and louder. she leans in close, having to raise her voice to get over the noise of it. ]
The window! It's opening! We just have to wait it out! [ karen can feel the air tugging at her jacket, her hair. it's getting stronger, slowly but it is. she widens her stands a little, stepping back and pulling amos with her, that much closer to the glass. ] Hold onto me, okay?!
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It'll come anyway, and it does. He almost covers her hand, in the way he thinks maybe he should, to acknowledge, to help her, too. But then everything just happens, and —
Guess you were right, he thinks, but doesn't say. The guy came back. Kinda.
Why the hell he thought if this guy actually did the thing and got the code entered, got them free, that things would just open up, simple as that, and they'd be able to get out of here. Why did he think even think that? Trapped in a flooded office that's shown him things he's been trying real damn hard to not even think about, things that no one and nothing should be able to know — why would anything that came next be normal?
Truthfully, he wasn't putting a lot of thought into what this would look like, exactly, if they did get rescued. Either they would die in here or get out. How exactly they would get from here to there — stepping back outside into that stormy night — he didn't care to think on, just figured he'd count them lucky for getting out at all.
But now, nothing just opens in a normal way, there's a whole thing now, where there's a not-small chance one or both of them might get sucked up into the goddamn sky, and he'd say he's at least a bit worried now. Not enough to convey much outwardly apart from an increased tension in his shoulders. His heart starts to pick up just a little, that feeling like they're on the edge of something and it's all about to break and if they don't hold tight enough to each other —
Alright, well, shit. Holding on to each other like hell is about all they've got for the seconds that tick by. He feels Karen shift her feet a little, and he does the same, trying to plant his legs more firmly, though he moves with her closer to the glass. He likes to think he's got a lot of strength, enough to keep her with him, but he doesn't entirely know what they're up against. It's a loud fury, everything all around them, and Amos' voice raises in return: ]
I got you!
[ Thing is, he knows she's got him, too. At least, as much as she can. She's a hell of a lot smaller than him, but he doesn't doubt for a second that she'll anchor with all her might. ]