Dreams of Fire

[Thalia]

Alive. She didn't want to react to that, but probably the conflict was written all over her face. Not that she wanted Jon to be dead, but the idea of him sitting in a hospital bed eating pudding was strangely discomforting. He shouldn't even exist. But at least now that he was very far away the memories blurred a little and the panic felt like it was locked behind glass. She could almost convince herself she hadn't seen what she thought.

The questioning had left her feeling a little exhausted, but now that it was over she returned to her usual animation. Crumbled pieces of gingerbread littered the table in front of her, and there were bits of jam on her thumb, which she stuck in her mouth. She swept the rest of the crumbs into her palm and, not knowing quite what to do with them, cascaded them on to one side of the plate holding the rest of the pastries. "My sister has my spare set of keys," she said in answer to the offer of an escort home. The idea of having to see a counsellor didn't seem to bother her; it was what Aylin did at the Guardian.

"Okay." It was a blanket acceptance of everything he said, touched by a little curiosity since she still wasn't entirely sure why she'd been questioned in the first place. She had the very british notion to thank him in return, particularly since he really did seem overworked, but in the end just watch him stand, and offered a smile. "Good luck with the investigation, Chief Inspector Drayson." If that's what it even was. Probably just routine since someone had died on public transport, and all the confusion of the Sickness stuff too, but it didn't dampen her sincerity.