The snap makes Jon jolt upright, reeling back into a focus. He reaches over in the stark silence, gingerly pulling the tape from the broken lid, and turning it in his hands. Perfectly intact - Rambo managed to extract it perfectly.
"It's alright, John."
His words are quiet, pressing on the pane of glass that the quiet of the room had settled into, but unwilling to break it with a hard push. He doesn't reach over to touch, to offer that physical reassurance; someone who's touch-starved doesn't need that from a stranger. But he does offer words, measured yet gentle, offered with care like offering a hand to a nervous dog.
"It's alright. Your war was left behind when you made it here. It should have been left behind when you returned home, but... it isn't here. Not anymore."
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"It's alright, John."
His words are quiet, pressing on the pane of glass that the quiet of the room had settled into, but unwilling to break it with a hard push. He doesn't reach over to touch, to offer that physical reassurance; someone who's touch-starved doesn't need that from a stranger. But he does offer words, measured yet gentle, offered with care like offering a hand to a nervous dog.
"It's alright. Your war was left behind when you made it here. It should have been left behind when you returned home, but... it isn't here. Not anymore."