deconstruct | v2 OPEN POST;

How far is the exit?

[ Because he knows what places like that do to him, and Steve doesn't even hesitate to drop exploring the rest of the floor he's on, making his way towards the staircase and moving down them much faster than he'd walked up. One flight isn't enough to take very long, but he knows what that word means to him, has known since the very first time they'd met. He only wishes he'd known what had been on that particularly level; all Steve had found on his had been a bunch of empty beds, and he would have preferred Andyr finding that instead. ]

About 15-20 yards.

[ As Steve's rushing his way over, Andyr's eyes are skimming over the walls, like he's waiting for them to start closing in, swallowing thickly, before willing his feet to move. But, not towards the door. He's here for a reason, he needs to finish what he's doing. Andyr's always been very stubborn about when to have his meltdowns. Or having them at all, when he should be able to just swallow it down. There's worse things than a room. ]

Catfish have over 27,000 taste buds. Humans have around 7,000. [ he starts to mutter distractedly, as he heads for a clipboard on one of the counters, like a quiet mantra. ] On average, flying fish can glide 160 feet, but have been known to glide as far as 660 feet, and they can reach heights up to 19 feet.

[ Not too far, but still far enough. Steve frowns, moving across the level once he hits the bottom of the stairwell, and it doesn't take him any time at all to find the right place, the one very clearly meant as a lab for experimenting on whatever people they dragged here. Considering the planet, probably a mix of humanoid and not, but that isn't something he should be thinking about when he walks up next to Andyr with a hand already at his elbow. He's missed the majority of the fish facts, though his concern doesn't waver an inch. ]

Hey. [ Steve doesn't try to take the clipboard. All he does is scan the counter and the other side of the room to note that, in fact, they're alone. ] Let's move out. We can come back later.

[ Steve's boots echo in the large room, and Andyr knows the sound and gait that signals him, along with the uptick hurry - he's worried. The touch at his arm is a warm reminder of who Steve is and all the stability he offers is there, and Andyr reaches out to put a palm on his forearm, giving a soft squeeze. ]

It's okay. I'll be okay. [ steve's here now, and that makes him relax a few notches, and he's trying to concentrate more on what's in the file than what's around him. brows knit, he's flipping through the pages on the clipboard, looking for something that makes sense while absently, more unconsciously, muttering more memorized facts and figures to himself, low, under his breath and almost unheard: There are three classes of fish: jawless, cartilaginous, and bony, over 25,000 species, the word “piranha” is from the Tupi (Brazil) 'pira nya' and means “scissors”, an Atlantic hagfish can make enough slime in one minute to fill a bucket-- ] We should take this back to Alva.

v2 OPEN POST;

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