[ Qubit pauses, then glances up, and... he's struck by how small Carlisle looks. Of course he's no bodybuilder at the best of times, but the way he's sitting, curled in on himself like that... He's frightened, vulnerable. Suffering. And for a second, Qubit wants nothing more than to go to him - pat him on the shoulder, assure him it's going to be all right -
- but that's not the best idea right now, as the withering grass reminds him. He does still need both his hands. ]
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- but that's not the best idea right now, as the withering grass reminds him. He does still need both his hands. ]
... I know. [ - he replies, more gently. ]