Perhaps it is indeed a surprise that Astrid’s reaction is a mixture, as she looks up at him from between her knees, kicking loose the boots to land somewhere under her bed. There’s no pearl-clutching gasp, no watery eyes; but equally so, some of that brusque pragmaticism he’s seen in her loosens. Her face does soften, saying, “Shit, I’m sorry.”
And there’s a whole possible spectrum contained in got. Kidnapping, captivity, ambush, death.
Her lips purse over her question, echoing his choice of words: “’Got’. What does that… like, what does that mean? Anyone dead? Y’alright?”
no subject
Perhaps it is indeed a surprise that Astrid’s reaction is a mixture, as she looks up at him from between her knees, kicking loose the boots to land somewhere under her bed. There’s no pearl-clutching gasp, no watery eyes; but equally so, some of that brusque pragmaticism he’s seen in her loosens. Her face does soften, saying, “Shit, I’m sorry.”
And there’s a whole possible spectrum contained in got. Kidnapping, captivity, ambush, death.
Her lips purse over her question, echoing his choice of words: “’Got’. What does that… like, what does that mean? Anyone dead? Y’alright?”