He doesn't notice when she doesn't answer, focused on his task and the gun instead.

He's staring at a bullet when she comes over, and he tenses when her hand falls on his wrist.

Leaving the weapon behind he follows her.



The washcloth and sink are stained and he's watching their hands when he finally works his throat and speaks.

"Tell me what happened, from the start."

He keeps his voice even, neutral; his eyes stay down, not looking at her or their reflections in the mirror.