[It's the most quiet Nate has ever seen his friend.

Taako is usually reliable for a quip or a come-on, sometimes both at the same time, and even with circumstances being as understandably dire as they are it feels strange. The silence that hangs between them is heavy and nauseating, almost more so than the smell of containment fluid, and Nate turns a little to better face him even while his pencil flies across the paper.

In the shock of blue-green light that filters through the tubes on the ceilings, in the walls, Taako looks sick. They all do.]

Yeah.

[He agrees, exhaling a sigh through his nose. Part of him wants to respect the fact that this place is a fucking tomb, but the other part of him feels rubbed raw, an itchy trigger finger looking for a target.]

They have to know, don't they? The gods? They never fucking told us this was where the hosts were from, because how else could they get here? They never said because they didn't want us to side with the Null.

[Nate huffs a mirthless laugh, bitterness tightening his jaw.]

Joke's on them, I don't want any part of either side's bullshit.