The sound of someone's voice rang through the second floor and Brennan really, truly, honestly wanted the floor boards to open up and pull him under. He had been pacing prior to the intrusion, and though he hadn't been mumbling or heaven forbid sobbing or anything, it would have been clear to anyone that he was really upset. He hadn't really thought to disguise it like he usually did because the thought that he would be alone up here tonight. He had figured that Eloise would be taking care of something else, and no one else in the library had any sort of interest in him, so he wasn't expecting a visitor.
His downward spiral had started with thinking about his immunity and just turned into thinking about everything he usually tried not to think about. His immunity was a touchy subject for him since he started letting it define who he was. It was clear that he didn't even understand the concept of immunity, and he always tried to think of why God had given it to him when he never really deserved it. Half of his blind devotion to his duties as an Immune might have come from his clinging to God for answers, though the other half really was the fact that he didn't know what else to do with himself. Separating Brennan from the Immunity helped him live through his four years stationed at Liberty Island without going mad from abandonment and confusion. Thinking about the word abandonment was strange for him since he never really saw himself as the kind to attach to others, or the kind to miss interaction with others. Prior to the Outbreak, Brennan loved isolation, keeping his private and his business selves separate. But, he had to remember, that back then he at least had a family, people that were blood related and almost forced to care about him, and now that he was without them, he found himself isolated in a way he never wanted to be. It never usually got to him, or maybe he never noticed how it got to him, but maybe it was because he was overloaded with stress at the moment and his emotional system -whatever part of it that managed to develop in his stunted childhood- was taking it's chance to rule. It was making him uncomfortable. And this woman's presence wasn't helping.
He ran his hand down his face before turning to look at her. He didn't really recognize her, but he'd only been here two days, and had only spoken with just as many inhabitants of the library. Most of the people there seemed to have already formed an opinion of him, which he figured didn't really affect him. He had decided to move here because he was going to be working with Eloise on their research, not because he was seeking new friends, which, it seemed, he certainly wasn't going to get here. He had heard a few people whispering about him, how he lived alone in the periodicals room, that he spent his free-time in either the library basement or on the upper floors, how he was cold, distant and bizarre. All things that he was accustomed to hearing.
The routines and schedules, keeping himself busy, usually kept his mind off of them, and he wasn't normally weak enough to care about their opinions. He was strong enough to stand up straight, to hold his own; he never needed others' validation for anything, didn't need their approval. He put it all on the stress; it was making him act different. He was afraid, more afraid lately, that he was going to collapse from it, and it was keeping him antsy and anxious.
He realized that he's probably just been staring at this woman without saying anything or even moving for at least five minutes. He could never claim that he was great at social interactions, and certainly not when he was standing on the edge of a black hole.
"I haven't noticed the cold," He finally answered. He stood there, staring again, not sure what to say now. "I'm Brennan."