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[diamondhack]

devan.isha@cdc.org
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[wethrinaer]

[it isn't the sort of strained that comes with talking too much; he screamed himself hoarse and then some at the end of his training, his anger breaking free of his usual, tight hold on it.

He lifts his head to look at her and tries to smile, but it's barely there, barely a quirk of his lips]

I imagine not. I doubt anyone has had a good experience with it.

[diamondhack]

[She searches him. There would be a quip in return, some sarcastic remark said in jest, but he's not in a state she likes him to be.]

Tell me what happened.

[wethrinaer]

[he's not in a state he likes to be in either, and it's almost frustrating that he's having so much trouble dragging himself out of it]

I'd rather not. [he winces a little at the thought. He doesn't want to think about it, why would he want to talk about it? Out loud, in front of anyone? Even if it's Isha]

Let's just say it hit personally this time.

[diamondhack]

So be it.

[It's not her place to drag his secrets out. Others? Perhaps. His?

Not exactly.]

If it's any consolation, mine was very personal as well.

[wethrinaer]

It's very strange, how such a device knows how to dig deep.

[he clears his throat with a wince, then draws away to take her hand, wordlessly leading her over to his bed]

[diamondhack]

[She follows with a quiet hum.]

It knows more than it will ever let on.

[wethrinaer]

It knows things it shouldn't, I think. I understand its purpose, but . . .

[he can't find exactly what he wants to say, though, so he just shakes his head and sits on the bed with a grunt]