[ Cassian doesn't have to be able to hear her to taste her palpable panic. Why wouldn't she be? Being trapped like she is in a room with water that looks nothing like water would do that to anyone. But even without that it's in how she grips the binder, how she looks on the verge of tears. He may be paranoid and suspicious. But even after all the work that he's done for the Rebellion, even after all of the blood and sweat he's poured into the last year, and perhaps even against Luthen's wishes, he has never lost that tender heart of his that bleeds when someone is so obviously in trouble.
It's why he doesn't hesitate to help her now. Why he keeps his cool despite the mounting sense of urgency that is slowly building pressure in his head. It will help neither of them if both of them are panicking, nor will it help him in recalling the sequence of strange symbols that had been flashed at him through the droplets hitting the glass. His gaze follows the direction she points, turning back sharply when she taps against the glass again revealing instructions on how to use the panel.
His eyes narrow as he squints trying to get a general gist before he nods, committing it to memory. Before he steps away though he types one more message and presses his phone to the glass. ]
i'll come back for you i promise
[ It does't take long to locate the panel. The sheer determination he has is the only thing that keeps him pushing past the living shadows that swells and undulates from the corners of the hall. A blaster shot does shockingly very little but leave singe mark on the panel door and it's only when his hands are on it does he realize that the reason for that is the odd sludge coating the door.
Gritting his teeth he tugs - hard - only to feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and stay that way. Fighting the paranoia in his mind telling him to look back he layers on firm reassurances to himself and his nerves: There is nothing there. He's alone in his hallway and he has a job to do. But as the panel pops open his vision swims, suddenly unable to focus on the buttons before him that meld into senseless shapes. It's a miracle that he manages to type them in at all (though it does take him several tries before the lights flash green, constantly distracted and haunted by a pulsating mass that he can't rid from his mind's eye). By the time he's done he's fighting off nausea and the strange fear gripping his heart as he fights his way back towards the room not realizing he's sliced his hand open in the process. ]
no subject
It's why he doesn't hesitate to help her now. Why he keeps his cool despite the mounting sense of urgency that is slowly building pressure in his head. It will help neither of them if both of them are panicking, nor will it help him in recalling the sequence of strange symbols that had been flashed at him through the droplets hitting the glass. His gaze follows the direction she points, turning back sharply when she taps against the glass again revealing instructions on how to use the panel.
His eyes narrow as he squints trying to get a general gist before he nods, committing it to memory. Before he steps away though he types one more message and presses his phone to the glass. ]
i'll come back for you
i promise
[ It does't take long to locate the panel. The sheer determination he has is the only thing that keeps him pushing past the living shadows that swells and undulates from the corners of the hall. A blaster shot does shockingly very little but leave singe mark on the panel door and it's only when his hands are on it does he realize that the reason for that is the odd sludge coating the door.
Gritting his teeth he tugs - hard - only to feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and stay that way. Fighting the paranoia in his mind telling him to look back he layers on firm reassurances to himself and his nerves: There is nothing there. He's alone in his hallway and he has a job to do. But as the panel pops open his vision swims, suddenly unable to focus on the buttons before him that meld into senseless shapes. It's a miracle that he manages to type them in at all (though it does take him several tries before the lights flash green, constantly distracted and haunted by a pulsating mass that he can't rid from his mind's eye). By the time he's done he's fighting off nausea and the strange fear gripping his heart as he fights his way back towards the room not realizing he's sliced his hand open in the process. ]