Crouched down, perched on his toes with elbows on his knees and hands hanging loose, back braced against the wall and head down, Chris tried to think it through. What were the odds that he'd been placed at the school because he'd been considered an acceptable loss if something had gone south? If nothing happened and he made it out, then great. If everything went to hell, no big loss. Who had signed off on that and who was to blame? And what was he going to do about it? What would happen if he joined these people for real - what would happen if he didn't?
He knew they were still talking in the room, could hear the murmur of voices from up the hall, even if he couldn't hear what they were saying. If he walked - tried to go back to his life - would that even be allowed? Or would he find himself just as fucked but in a situation where no one else was around to help? The possibility of never getting back in the field was oppressive, the probability of never making it past active duty made his throat hurt with the difficulty of swallowing. Not seeing his family again made him a strange sort of sad, but with not seeing them for so long, topped by the atom bomb of confession that his dad had dropped, it was only a passing worry. But the thought of dying at someone else's order was something else entirely.
By the time he made his decision and stood to walk back into the room, another man had joined the group and was voting himself in. Jaw clenched in steel-lined immobility, he returned to his place leaning in the doorway. When Max looked to him, he just nodded, almost certain that if he didn't keep his teeth clenched together, he'd lose what he'd eaten earlier in the day. Whatever the group ended up planning, it was going to be just one more thing that changed his life in an instant.