Tragos couldn't stand this. They were talking about something as if it was obvious and it must be obvious, immortal was code for - for something like maybe it was the rest of his gang she was afraid of, coming after her, because that made sense. Only they kept saying he'd come back - so maybe it was one of those 'cut off the head of the snake and a new one grows' kind of thing - their next leader would be Apollo too - that sort of made sense too. That value of 'immortal' he could understand.
But their shared look of confusion - Tragos couldn't handle it, and he couldn't do this in front of Much. He grabbed Marcie's arm and walked her out of the room, as Much called cheerfully after them: "it's fine! I can do it myself! He's not heavy!"
He was missing something. Tragos could feel it, the gap in his knowledge gaping, the shame of it like a spotlight. It kept pressing at him over these last months, and he'd rationalised it away over and over and his brain was trying, desperately, to rationalise it again. "Marcie," he hissed, keeping his voice low so Much couldn't hear. "What..."
He couldn't even get the question out. Admitting ignorance was like handing over to someone else the means of your own destruction, the danger in it kept him quiet. What was he even supposed to ask? And, the stronger fear: what if she gave him some simple and obvious answer that made him feel so stupid? He'd have to chuck himself down his planned hole with Apollo too. Fuck. Fuck.