The text  ‘Andrew Ryan is typing...’  had been flashing in and out of existence on the bottom of their chat log between 9:05 PM all the way through 9:12 PM as Rapture’s Founder attempted to come up with the best way forward.

All clear thought were out the window,  however,  once the photos started to load in.  Andrew forgot how to breathe,  like someone was forcing all air from his lungs,  and tears sprung to his eyes.  He wasn’t quite sure why,  though.

She had made her choice.  Let her rot with him.

[9:28 PM]  Why would yiu say that?

Oh.  Could you undo sending something?  Andrew would do anything to take that message back.  To sent in something more angry,  and less...  pathetic.