"keep moving," and though she aims for the sort of aggression that would discourage any further questions, luca cuts such a pathetic image that her tone would be easily ignored. she's been in worse situations. it's difficult to remember that, right about now, but she really has been. the towel wrapped around her body is secure, her wet hair is clipped out of her face and her shoes, though untied, are sturdy enough. she's out of the main traffic area, round the back of borgin & burkes, her luck run out on her way back in from throwing out a bag of rubbish that she was now wishing she'd just left 'til later - she hadn't meant for the door to lock behind her, and hadn't brought her wand in case it did. it could be ten times worse, though it still felt awful. cheeks blazing red, she stays staring at the door as if she might be able to burn a hole through it, resolutely refusing to even look at her audience as she says, "please. keep moving."

keep moving, charlie does not. he does keep his eyes fixed pointedly to the side after he realizes what it is he has stumbled upon. hector heels by his side but the dog's ears flop as his head tips at the unexpected company on their walk. "do you need a hand?" the door must be locked and from the glimpse of her attire charlie got before tipping his head to look to the side, it seems unlikely she has either key or wand on her person to help resolve the issue. "if the door isn't warded i could get it open for you?"

she knows the clock is there, it's consistent rhythmic ticking keeping her grounded and letting time pass in a way she wasn't trying to keep track of anymore. but the thing was at least three feet above her head. maybe she had thought he was looking at her but it really was just him glancing at the clock, but damn she hated to be wrong and to then use that wrong assumption in an embarrassing manner. instead of giving in to that she simply sighed, instinct telling her to pinch the bridge of her nose before she remembered it might be broken, wincing and putting her hand on her forehead instead. "well, then what time is it? i'll calculate how annoyed i am based on your answer." she was half joking but he might not know that.

"half past three." the time spills from his lips easily and with a mild smile. his fingers rest on the glossy cover of the magazine he'd given up on flipping through in favor of staring at the clock and willing it to tick on faster. "how long have you been waiting?" there's a sympathetic note threaded gently through his warm voice as charlie observes but doesn't note the painful swelling about her nose. what good would come from saying something about it aloud, after she's certainly been through triage and marked down as a lower priority than others?

in Fear the Walking Dead s3ep15 'Things Bad Begun' [Part 1?]

it takes a moment for him to realize the voice that has piped up is talking to him. "you're standing below the clock," his chin gestures towards it with a nod.