[Angela had been the one to break the news. And, as a result... Reinhardt doesn't know how to take it. In the moment, it had been terrible. Betrayed, hurt, stunned... those were all good ways to describe what went through his mind, as soon as he found out.]
[He'd... been busy, in the interim. Possibly too busy. Keeping himself occupied, working. Taking short labor jobs. If he worked, then he wouldn't think too much about what had transpired.]
[About how one of his oldest friends had been lying to him. Lying to his face. How he'd buried him. Buried... so many of them. Only to have that grief thrown back in his face like this. What was next? He would turn a corner and see Balderich walking down the street? Was Torbjörn actually a very tall man, walking on his knees?]
[He's home, though, when the knock comes. It's a slow rise, and a slow march to the door.]
[The sight that greets him on the other side feels like a punch to the chest. Like he's staring at a ghost.]
[It's only his word to Angela that keeps his fist at his side. But he says nothing.]
no subject
[He'd... been busy, in the interim. Possibly too busy. Keeping himself occupied, working. Taking short labor jobs. If he worked, then he wouldn't think too much about what had transpired.]
[About how one of his oldest friends had been lying to him. Lying to his face. How he'd buried him. Buried... so many of them. Only to have that grief thrown back in his face like this. What was next? He would turn a corner and see Balderich walking down the street? Was Torbjörn actually a very tall man, walking on his knees?]
[He's home, though, when the knock comes. It's a slow rise, and a slow march to the door.]
[The sight that greets him on the other side feels like a punch to the chest. Like he's staring at a ghost.]
[It's only his word to Angela that keeps his fist at his side. But he says nothing.]