( The bitch of it is, the glass is completely soundproof. Maybe there's some irony to be found in the fact that Frank can't hear his audience member try to flag him down, to heckle him through the window — or maybe not. There's a real possibility he wouldn't have looked up anyway, fixated as he is on flinging desks to the side and moving shit out of the way in a desperate attempt to get to the body that keeps floading just out of reach, moving with the churning current, her curly hair fanned out around her face, strands plastered to her forehead.
It's made even more absurd by the fact that she's dead. She's obviously dead, she's dead. Even if he could get to her-- what? What's he gonna do, give her mouth to mouth? Resuscitate a corpse? But it doesn't matter, the only thing that he can think, the only thing compelling him, is the notion that he can't leave his baby girl's body to sink and bloat in this shithole building, that he needs to hold it, clutch her to his chest and carry her out somehow, push her hair back away from her face, tie it back like he used to do a thousand times before, braid it maybe before he puts her in the ground where she belongs.
Wrench gets to watch him dive, plunging himself into the water for long seconds before resurfacing, shaking the wet out of his face like a dog, frantic, the weapon strapped to his back a useless weighted hindrance that keeps slamming against his thighs but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but getting to her.
Nothing.
Not even saving himself anymore. Not even drowning. Only her. )
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It's made even more absurd by the fact that she's dead. She's obviously dead, she's dead. Even if he could get to her-- what? What's he gonna do, give her mouth to mouth? Resuscitate a corpse? But it doesn't matter, the only thing that he can think, the only thing compelling him, is the notion that he can't leave his baby girl's body to sink and bloat in this shithole building, that he needs to hold it, clutch her to his chest and carry her out somehow, push her hair back away from her face, tie it back like he used to do a thousand times before, braid it maybe before he puts her in the ground where she belongs.
Wrench gets to watch him dive, plunging himself into the water for long seconds before resurfacing, shaking the wet out of his face like a dog, frantic, the weapon strapped to his back a useless weighted hindrance that keeps slamming against his thighs but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but getting to her.
Nothing.
Not even saving himself anymore. Not even drowning. Only her. )