[It's a far cry from the headless horsemen and murderous girls of the floor below, a far more quiet and insidious sort of scary, she thinks. This isn't the horror that jumps out at you from around the corner; this is the horror that waits for you to come to it, patient, because all men must discover it in their own time. This is the horror of living.

It's not something she wholly understands; her fears have always had form and shape, a name, a place, a voice. How do you fight a fear when there's nothing to fight against?

But even as the papers swirl around them, even as she tries to sneak a peek at the papers falling around them, Wave doesn't let go. It doesn't weigh as heavy on her, so she can stand tall for the both of them, even as the paperwork falls, the IDs hail down on them, even as she starts to piece together that this man before her... there's been a weight on his shoulders for a long time, hasn't there? Unbidden, she thinks of another man she knows, and she thinks that maybe she hasn't been looking at Justy this entire time.]

...sometimes the scariest things out there are the ones that don't look like they are at first glance. It's not always something you scream and run away from.

[Lords, does she know that one.]