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shepard. commander shepard. (skyllianblitz) wrote in silverage,

She watched Locke over her cup of coffee, a bit flat-faced. Not quite.... impassive, but close to it, and her hands clenched around her cup of coffee as he went on. By the time he was done, she felt as though she really would have liked to punch something. Repeatedly. Her grip on the cup was very tight––she wasn't going to shatter it, no, but if she'd been wearing armor it probably would have cracked a while ago.

Not that she wanted to punch the kid, it really didn't seem like it was his fault––he wasn't comfortable with it, although the fact that he seemed resigned to it was maybe bad news. But something needed punching, or shooting. Since she didn't have her gun, punching was the default. But there were no good options; the people here didn't seem responsible, and she wasn't going to just start storming around beating up… whoever they were. Finally, after he was done, she gave a rough sigh. "Hell of a predicament," she finally declared.

Not quite as disorienting as waking up from being dead, but––at least then she'd been in action, and hadn't had to just sit in a diner booth and think about it. "Who's we? If there are lots of people stuck here, and they're working on a way out, I'm in." Just like that -- really, if taking action was not the only thing she knew how to do, it was absolutely what she knew how to do best. She finally took a sip of her much-worried-at coffee, and then, as an afterthought, "wait, magic?"