[ He's halfway up the stairs, half on his hands, to meet Ash's efforts when his eyes adjust to the light and--Quentin stops, twisting over his shoulder to look back. Ash wants him out. Which means--which means Ash will get him out. Guilt twists his stomach; he's never heard Ash like that, never. But Ash knows what he's doing. So does Quentin. The only person here that doesn't know is Cheryl.
[ Quentin moves back down to her, wiping the blood from his nose on the back of his hand--then on his shirt--in an effort to look less like a maniac. As he would with someone just as fragile, as he would with any person new to this place, he warns her as he crouches behind. ]
We're doing our best. Ash is up there, he's gonna get us out. Trust me, he's a beast.
[ A swaying shadow makes him start. Why the hell is anything swaying? He's watching the discolored light bulb, scouring the discolored light for the threat that dragged him down here, when he wraps an arm around Cheryl to pull her shoulders to his chest. ]
no subject
[ Quentin moves back down to her, wiping the blood from his nose on the back of his hand--then on his shirt--in an effort to look less like a maniac. As he would with someone just as fragile, as he would with any person new to this place, he warns her as he crouches behind. ]
We're doing our best. Ash is up there, he's gonna get us out. Trust me, he's a beast.
[ A swaying shadow makes him start. Why the hell is anything swaying? He's watching the discolored light bulb, scouring the discolored light for the threat that dragged him down here, when he wraps an arm around Cheryl to pull her shoulders to his chest. ]
I've got you. We gotta go.