Steve's not sure what he's agreeing with. He shifts fractionally closer to her, feeling protective and seeking comfort both at once. That someone would do this to a child makes him feel sick. It's too much like Zola, the Nazis' experimentation, and it only serves to drive home the fact that the world hasn't changed nearly so much as it claims.
Music. He hears music, reedy as an old recording, piping through the empty streets. It's a jazzy sound, somehow familiar, even though he can't pick out the song.
They all died waiting for you... It's crooned to the tune of the music, in a voice like Billie Holiday's.
Steve presses shoulder-to-shoulder with Olivia. "What happened the times that you went through this? How did you get out?"
no subject
Steve's not sure what he's agreeing with. He shifts fractionally closer to her, feeling protective and seeking comfort both at once. That someone would do this to a child makes him feel sick. It's too much like Zola, the Nazis' experimentation, and it only serves to drive home the fact that the world hasn't changed nearly so much as it claims.
Music. He hears music, reedy as an old recording, piping through the empty streets. It's a jazzy sound, somehow familiar, even though he can't pick out the song.
They all died waiting for you... It's crooned to the tune of the music, in a voice like Billie Holiday's.
Steve presses shoulder-to-shoulder with Olivia. "What happened the times that you went through this? How did you get out?"