"Hey, Strohl?" The room of the inn is so quiet that even Victor's whisper feels too loud, a disruption in the thick grief that has veiled them all. It's been days, but without seeing Maria, with the pain in Fabienne's eyes, with Strohl blaming himself, the tension of loss hasn't seemed to dispel.
The slow exhale of his breath trembles slightly as the other bed shifts a bit beneath Strohl's weight. "Sorry if I woke you..." He doesn't think he did, but he's sorry for it anyway, the words feeling appropriate for making a sound at all. "I csnt sleep. I was going to see if Fabienne had something to drink. Do you want me to bring you something?" Victor doesn't drink much alcohol, knowing it can take a quick toll on his small frame, but there's an itch of mourning behind his exhausted eyes, and he thinks even something watered down would help him sleep a little better tonight.
Sleep is elusive, as it always is. He makes a great show of pretending everything is fine but only so that no one worries over him. Yet with Victor, he finds it so easy to let those walls down, and Strohl both relishes it and disdains himself for it. Victor has enough to contend with himself, he doesn't need to add Strohl's problems to his worries.
Yet when Victor calls, his voice a mere whisper in the night, Strohl turns toward him immediately, as if he'd simply been waiting for the opportunity to talk.
Strohl shook his head. "I wasn't asleep," he assures him. "Hmm, why don't we go together?"
He can't help but notice the weight on Victor's shoulders and the way exhaustion rims his eyes. Without thinking, he places his hand on his shoulder. There's few words that can be said to ease either of their pains and on some level he knows that.
"Selfish as it is...I'd rather not be alone right now."
