Thinking about Grace running as fast as he could alongside Stratt towards the explosion site, thinking about how he must have been so fucking afraid for his friends inside, about how his heart was probably racing and his lungs were probably aching, and he was pushing himself to his physical limit, blood pumping with adrenaline to help people who he probably already knew were dead, and then merely days later he was running again, scared, this time, for his own life, moving as fast as his body would let him, mind reeling with the betrayal from someone he'd grown to trust, someone he'd run alongside so soon before, trying with all his might to escape, though, just as with Dubois and Shapiro, he probably already knew he was as good as dead, that running would do nothing but placate his survival instincts