[She gave him a look when he told her not to be alarmed. Not only had he been crucified, he was locked up in a place where she doubted he was very popular and those ridiculous vigilantes seemed determined to keep him where he was. And, too, maybe some of her worry stemmed from how off-kilter her world had become, thrust suddenly into a place she didn't know without warning. Becky looked down at the hand on her arm before covering it with her own, a gentle brush of fingers over his knuckles before they settled.] I'm still going to worry, no matter what you way.
[When he asked if they'd given her any trouble, she straightened up a little and shook her head.] It's fine. Have they [...] said anything about releasing you? Anything new?