[Thank fuck this didn't have to turn into a huge game of charades. He has not figured out where the water is coming from since it's only this room filling up and not the whole building. Hasn't heard any obvious sounds of water rushing in anywhere, hasn't felt a current to indicate where it's pushing in from.
It's not a way he'd want to die. He'll take that fall, thanks. Nice and simple and easy and quick. It's not like abandoned he knows what's let her go on the other side of death undeserving in a place like this. He's alonebloodyfailureemptyworthlessguiltyafraidshut up shut up shut the fuck UP--
He is not going to die here, god damn it. If his new friend doesn't get him out, he'll get himself out. He'll figure it out, even if he has to tread water.
A body that was definitely not here when he started bobs to the surface, and he huffs out a sputtering scoff and ignores it.] Yeah yeah, what's next, the walls are gonna start bleeding?
[He has to more float and swim to get around the office as it fills. Errant pages float toward him, with notes of bleeding ink talking about a very specific number of dead agents, suggesting how freedom from choice is the sweetest kind of freedom, mentioning a certain date when his life as he knew it ended, indicating how if he was any good at keeping the team together then maybe the team wouldn't have disbanded and broken and splintered and shattered, and hey, hey guess what else, maybe if he hadn't failed to retire again, maybe if the team had been together, maybe if that second family of his that was his responsibility hadn't had a falling out, maybe they could have prevented--
Thankfully he's the only one that can hear his own scream of frustration.
He ignores the bodies that may or may not be there, because he knows they aren't there but maybe like the water they simply are, takes a deep breath, and dives. If he can find where it's all coming from, then he can buy himself more time. He has time. He can get more of it. Just ignore all the pain. He's gotten good at that.
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It's not a way he'd want to die. He'll take that fall, thanks. Nice and simple and easy and quick. It's not like abandoned he knows what's let her go on the other side of death undeserving in a place like this. He's alonebloodyfailureemptyworthlessguiltyafraid shut up shut up shut the fuck UP--
He is not going to die here, god damn it. If his new friend doesn't get him out, he'll get himself out. He'll figure it out, even if he has to tread water.
A body that was definitely not here when he started bobs to the surface, and he huffs out a sputtering scoff and ignores it.] Yeah yeah, what's next, the walls are gonna start bleeding?
[He has to more float and swim to get around the office as it fills. Errant pages float toward him, with notes of bleeding ink talking about a very specific number of dead agents, suggesting how freedom from choice is the sweetest kind of freedom, mentioning a certain date when his life as he knew it ended, indicating how if he was any good at keeping the team together then maybe the team wouldn't have disbanded and broken and splintered and shattered, and hey, hey guess what else, maybe if he hadn't failed to retire again, maybe if the team had been together, maybe if that second family of his that was his responsibility hadn't had a falling out, maybe they could have prevented--
Thankfully he's the only one that can hear his own scream of frustration.
He ignores the bodies that may or may not be there, because he knows they aren't there but maybe like the water they simply are, takes a deep breath, and dives. If he can find where it's all coming from, then he can buy himself more time. He has time. He can get more of it. Just ignore all the pain. He's gotten good at that.
Or he pretends he has.]