[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]
“What the hell are you doing?”
Thom jerked toward the sound of his voice, unbalancing and nearly falling. J.T. cursed under his breath and grabbed his friend before he fell.
“Christ, Thom,” he muttered. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Clearly not,” Thom rasped, forcing himself upright. He wavered, but managed it—barely. J.T. slowly let go.
“You should be in bed. You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell,” Thom said, scrubbing a hand roughly over his face. “Where’s Marin?”
“Not sure. Probably still at the main fire unless she’s gone out to the wall for a report. It’s starting to rain out there.” He eyed Thom for a few seconds, starting to feel queasy. Thom hadn’t looked this bad since a year before, when everything had come crashing down around them. It was disconcerting.
Worse because I have no idea what the hell is going on with him. J.T.’s lips thinned. Thom noticed exhaling with a huff.
“I have to talk to her,” he said, starting to move. His gait was uneven, unsteady. J.T. cursed under his breath.
“It can’t wait?”
“No,” Thom said, voice like ice. “No, it sure as hell can’t.”
J.T. cursed under his breath. His sword would have to wait. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m coming with you.”
