[More calmly than he felt, Horatio set down the pen and book and stood, turning 'round to fully face the man.
Shock and disbelief were written on his face, certainly, and there was a certain glint in his eyes. Calculation. It was the same look as the man eyeing enemy ships, counting their guns and estimating their crew. Forming a plan of attack.
Archie Kennedy. Three years dead. Was he mad? Seeing things? Dead himself? All reassurances to the contrary on that were forgotten. But there was pain in his back. Pain that suggested this was all very real.
He finally spoke, voice quiet and with a broken quiver to it.]
[action]
Shock and disbelief were written on his face, certainly, and there was a certain glint in his eyes. Calculation. It was the same look as the man eyeing enemy ships, counting their guns and estimating their crew. Forming a plan of attack.
Archie Kennedy. Three years dead. Was he mad? Seeing things? Dead himself? All reassurances to the contrary on that were forgotten. But there was pain in his back. Pain that suggested this was all very real.
He finally spoke, voice quiet and with a broken quiver to it.]
A-Archie?