Hey, wait, hold on, okay. UM. Question!
[Hanna's gotten worried. He's tried calling Conrad a dozen times. Gone to his room. Done a bunch of stuff. Done anything he could think of, really.
He'd been browsing through ShipNET archives for things about thunderstorms and storms in general on board when Musashi had posted-- and he made the mistake of
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[Pause.]
I'm...sorry.
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You're sure that's what it means? I mean, maybe they're just-- maybe it's like a server crash, and it wiped numbers or something? It works like that, right?
[His tone of voice betrays the fact that he doesn't.... entirely believe his own theory.]
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...I'm sorry.
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You're kidding.
I mean, I mean, y-you're not, obviously. That's... that's why it's not... funny.
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Let me know if you need anything?
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I will! Thanks for the offer.
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You've already been told, but I am sorry.
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Um. Thank you. Really, uh, thank you.
[It means something when someone you've never met tries to console you.
He totally doesn't need consoling, though, nope.
Maybe a dictionary to give him a definition of "denial", though.]
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Forgive me if saying so is overstepping, but everything we speculate about their fates is only that, speculation. Nobody can yet disprove what you choose to believe.
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[His voice is gaining some levity as he babbles.]
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(The comment has been removed)
[This might be the first time he's ever sounded particularly sad talking to her.]
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He paces around the room as he talks to people, walking across the couch, perching on the desk, unable to sit entirely still for a very long time.]
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Hanna.
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Oh! Sorry, man, yeah? What's up?
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