At first, John doesn't say much of anything, just sinks in on himself with a few muttered words like he's attempting to pull himself together, which doesn't make any sense. That's not an answer. None of it is an answer. He's never seen John like this, and it scares him, almost makes him feel angry, or at least impatient. What the hell could have happened while he was out?
When an answer comes, it really only brings about more questions. Not just the actual definitions of words like safe and gone, but the far more alarming tampered with. His fingers tighten around the hem of his shirt, equal parts defensive and afraid.
But he doesn't know what to say. He wouldn't say no to tea, at least, though he's not particularly accustomed to the offer coming this way. He follows John at an uneasy distance, jolting slightly as a cat makes itself known, watching with quiet disbelief as John picks it up, reassuring it with soft familiarity.
Martin stands outside the small kitchen, looking around the dark flat as though something there will explain this to him. It looks... nice. Tidy enough, but lived-in. Not exactly how he'd picture Jonathan Sims living. Though maybe he doesn't know much about his boss at all.
He looks askance at him now, cat in one arm, back hunched over the stove top. That is familiar. Looking askance, from the corner, where he won't be noticed. Looking, daydreaming, but nothing more.
He clears his throat and looks away. "I... I don't understand," he says at last, unable to make himself wait for the water to boil. "What do you mean tampered with?"
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When an answer comes, it really only brings about more questions. Not just the actual definitions of words like safe and gone, but the far more alarming tampered with. His fingers tighten around the hem of his shirt, equal parts defensive and afraid.
But he doesn't know what to say. He wouldn't say no to tea, at least, though he's not particularly accustomed to the offer coming this way. He follows John at an uneasy distance, jolting slightly as a cat makes itself known, watching with quiet disbelief as John picks it up, reassuring it with soft familiarity.
Martin stands outside the small kitchen, looking around the dark flat as though something there will explain this to him. It looks... nice. Tidy enough, but lived-in. Not exactly how he'd picture Jonathan Sims living. Though maybe he doesn't know much about his boss at all.
He looks askance at him now, cat in one arm, back hunched over the stove top. That is familiar. Looking askance, from the corner, where he won't be noticed. Looking, daydreaming, but nothing more.
He clears his throat and looks away. "I... I don't understand," he says at last, unable to make himself wait for the water to boil. "What do you mean tampered with?"