As Rey takes Nick's arm, his gaze flicks to her hand, then to her eyes. Nearly hidden in the dark, his own expression is subdued, and forcibly so -- there's a tightness of uncertainty in his brow, the troubles on his mind etched into his face. It's not a look he'd show just anyone, but Rey isn't just anyone. She's family, and more than that, she understands. She gets it. She knows all too well what's at stake here. It's not just the gods, and not just the city; it's not the people they've come to know, or even each other. It's their newfound way of life, something better than what they had in their own worlds.

They can't go back now, and they can't let Hadriel become what they were living in before, synthetic threat and all. They can't lose this -- they can't lose each other.

Despite his stifled apprehension, Nick offers her as grateful a smile as he can muster; it barely breaks through the stiff worry that sits at the corners of his mouth. "It's always darkest before dawn. Let's just hope this is as dark as it gets."

Even he knows the chances for that are slim, but there's always hope. There's got to be.