Some small, overly civilized part of Adam's psyche was loathe to cut his conversation with Viola short. The innate rudeness of the act bothered him more than he had words to say; it implied he had not enjoyed his conversation with her, and perhaps too that he had not felt the resurgence of the wordless, effortless connection they shared. He felt a pang of guilt at this, immediately resolving to address the issue the moment they were able. But for now he knew there were matters far more pressing to attend. His gratitude that Viola clearly saw and understood - again, without need for words, without demand for explanation - was truly boundless. Later, he thought, he would address this as well, would express his sincere thanks for her quick reaction. Her mere presence was a comfort now; it helped to know her expertise was on his side.
"Alex?"
He moved to his knees beside her, taking pains to keep from jostling her or her newly made acquaintance, even now mindful of giving off some perception of rudeness or ill intent.
"What was she doing when this happened?" he asked the man, his black eyes never leaving her slight frame. He studied her face, the slim lines of her body, jarred by some violent spike of agony. "Did she touch a breaker? Wires? Anything?"
He risked a brief glance over one shoulder, looking to Viola, knowing she would likely have no more ready answers than he. His jaw clenched, the silver ball of his labret clicking hard against his teeth.
Looking back to his friend, he forced the rigid line of his spine to relax, willing calm to loosen tense limbs. "Alex, can you hear me?"