Kitty feels sick when she sees the way Cross is strung up like a sick slab of art. She's not even sure the last time she really felt like that. It's been awhile. She's seen things that no one should—the things of nightmares. She lived with horror after horror for years, and always came out the other side more or less intact. She knew how to assess the worst of situations, choose a plan of attack and proceed with it.
And even with the lurching in her stomach today was no different. At least she didn't want it to be.
She reached for her communicator, ready to call Allen to offer her aid, her comfort, or, hell, even just someone to yell at if he wanted. Her finger stilled and the button went unpressed. This wasn't the first time the Noah had caused trouble in the dome—and she was without a doubt certain this was Tyki's work. Really more certain than she had any right to be. She just felt it. Everything that had happened lately. Every conversation. Every strange rendezvous. Even the way he had been so particularly giddy the other night. They were all warning her and she was too blind to see it. Or worse, she just didn't want to.
She earned this guilt.
And Tyki earned...something else.
She could go to the church. She wanted to go to the church, but prior experience told her what she would hear. It was for exorcists to deal with. She wasn't one of them. She needed to mind her own business. She didn't want to fight—not with them.
Her fingers curled into a tight fist. It didn't mean she was ready to drop this either.]