[The voice over the wrist communicators is quiet, calm... almost detached.]And they said every one to his fellow, Come and let us cast lots, that we may know for whose cause this evil is upon us. So they cast lots, and the lot fell upon Jonah
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Jonathan?
[To say he's worried is a mild understatement.]
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But that would mean breaking his promise to Sansa. And she... The way she'd looked at him before. She's had too many promises broken, he is sure. He can't be one more. Not until she realises how dangerous he is to have around and orders him away.
He looks up when Pullings approaches, touching his hat for a proper salute.]
Mister Pullings, sir.
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[He sounded constrained in his attempt to make conversation and looked the part too. Hands clenching and unclenching at the reins of the horse; he'd decided to walk it a ways instead of riding before tying her off onto the back of the wagon. His gaze wasn't locked straight ahead as it usually was when it came to conversation with Hollom, only flitting occasionally back to the other man if he spoke. The former midshipman had his full attention now.]
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[For a moment, his genuine surprise betrayed him. Then something settled in his eyes. ...Resignation.
He wasn't sure what was worse. Assuming that most of the officers agreed with the captain and hands ... or realising that at least one of his two other superiors had no idea what was going on.
Then, quietly, his eyes cast down, presumably on the goat he was keeping an eye on but really to not have to look at the lieutenant.]
It's Scripture, sir.
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