Fen had tried, really. She kept her eyes on the screen, trying to absorb the story even when Loki’s head fell on her shoulder and even when she realized he was drooling on her. But a lot reminded her too much of Fillory and too much of Margo and Eliot. She hadn’t been inclined to talk much during it, which was one reason why she had picked Loki to sit next to – because she didn’t expect him to ask her questions on how she was doing or if she wanted to talk.
After those hours, she didn’t think she would keep watching. Fen went back to her room, picking up the assortment of knives she had on her that she collected throughout the many weeks she’s been in Derleth. Then, donning a jacket with a hood that would keep her features hidden from any spies from the outside, she made her way over to the now-much-smaller Green, finding herself a tree to use as target practice.