[he tries to tell himself again: you're winding yourself up over nothing. there is no material difference between a house where a person has only stepped out for an errand, and one where the person has vanished altogether. it's an empty room either way. it does not -- it should not -- feel as if Fever has opened the door to a tomb.
and yet.
Gaeta has spent his life buried in the rational, focused on it so intently that he lost all sense of instinct. he let hundreds of people die because of that impulse. his brain might insist there is no material difference, but his gut knows that's a lie. and if he doesn't listen to his gut for once, then Tayrey --
so he makes himself listen. his breath shakes, but he frakking listens, and steps inside the empty house.]
...
[a pause just a few feet past the threshold. a whisper:]
no subject
and yet.
Gaeta has spent his life buried in the rational, focused on it so intently that he lost all sense of instinct. he let hundreds of people die because of that impulse. his brain might insist there is no material difference, but his gut knows that's a lie. and if he doesn't listen to his gut for once, then Tayrey --
so he makes himself listen. his breath shakes, but he frakking listens, and steps inside the empty house.]
...
[a pause just a few feet past the threshold. a whisper:]
She's gone.