Before he yearned for their blood, their pain, and their slow deaths. So far no news, nothing. By now she looks a mess, face creased with worry lines and tears, her clothes smelled of the strong alcohol she had been drinking. In an effort to distract her-self she began to clean the carpet gathering bottles and working rug cleaner into stains. For a while the orange light of sunset filters in through the leaves dancing upon Kit's back and warming his sleep but all too soon it fades.
Trap stands guard.
His thoughts mock him. Trap has always been completely confident in his abilities, what ifs fill his thoughts. He can not begin to consider the thought of losing Kit, for the thought itself could severely hurt him. He tries to relax enough to sleep, but it evades him, so he just lies next to Kit. He slowly raises his head and looks for the source of the sound.