[ Wow Kalim REALLY wishes he could be unconscious for all this. He hasn't felt this rattled since he first got here, and this is worse – back then he only had to worry about himself, and he also didn't have to spend any long stretches of time standing around politely in the dark with nothing to distract him except a performance he's seen before...!
Passing on the message went fine – the Pyrmonts seemed happy to assume that he was a little flustered for the same reason he pretended he was flustered earlier, and it was easy enough to play along – but the waiting is interminable. He feels like all his hair and fingernails are going to fall out. He feels like he's going to die.
At least nobody is paying any attention to him, and when the time finally comes that he has to see people out, at least he can distract himself chatting to them. He thinks he does an okay job of cluelessly telling the Pyrmonts that he didn't see Jamil come back to the amphitheatre like he doesn't know why that might possibly be the case, but it does make his skin crawl a little to lie to them outright when they seem genuinely concerned.
He can't help wondering... Perhaps if they just told them? That Jamil doesn't want to work for them? Maybe they'd be okay with it and let him go...?
Fortunately he's seen enough that he does actually know better by now, though. He tells them he hopes Jamil is okay, which he can at least say with complete sincerity, and leaves work as briskly as he can manage without drawing suspicion.
When he finally turns the keys in the door he doesn't even have the space in his head to reflect on what a fun new experience it still is to unlock a door himself like he does every other time he comes back here. It takes him a couple of tries, fumbling the keys out of nerves. ]
Jamil...?
[ He says it very quietly as he shuts the door behind him, but as soon as he sees him sitting there his restraint is gone; he launches himself across the room with great force to seize Jamil in a rib-crushing hug.
He does still manage to keep his voice down, but he sounds like he's about to cry. ]
Oh my gosh, you made it! I don't know what I was going to do if you weren't here. Are you okay? Did anyone follow you?
[ Actually he's probably crying already. Sorry About Your Wet Shirt, Jamil ]
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Passing on the message went fine – the Pyrmonts seemed happy to assume that he was a little flustered for the same reason he pretended he was flustered earlier, and it was easy enough to play along – but the waiting is interminable. He feels like all his hair and fingernails are going to fall out. He feels like he's going to die.
At least nobody is paying any attention to him, and when the time finally comes that he has to see people out, at least he can distract himself chatting to them. He thinks he does an okay job of cluelessly telling the Pyrmonts that he didn't see Jamil come back to the amphitheatre like he doesn't know why that might possibly be the case, but it does make his skin crawl a little to lie to them outright when they seem genuinely concerned.
He can't help wondering... Perhaps if they just told them? That Jamil doesn't want to work for them? Maybe they'd be okay with it and let him go...?
Fortunately he's seen enough that he does actually know better by now, though. He tells them he hopes Jamil is okay, which he can at least say with complete sincerity, and leaves work as briskly as he can manage without drawing suspicion.
When he finally turns the keys in the door he doesn't even have the space in his head to reflect on what a fun new experience it still is to unlock a door himself like he does every other time he comes back here. It takes him a couple of tries, fumbling the keys out of nerves. ]
Jamil...?
[ He says it very quietly as he shuts the door behind him, but as soon as he sees him sitting there his restraint is gone; he launches himself across the room with great force to seize Jamil in a rib-crushing hug.
He does still manage to keep his voice down, but he sounds like he's about to cry. ]
Oh my gosh, you made it! I don't know what I was going to do if you weren't here. Are you okay? Did anyone follow you?
[ Actually he's probably crying already. Sorry About Your Wet Shirt, Jamil ]