[He’s quiet, thinking, calculating, LED spinning in circles. The mood in the air stutters and staggers, then lowers into something below the doldrums. Connor frowns, brow knitting, then casts his look out towards the lake again. Fingers clasp against a rock next to him, curling gently around it, before he tosses it out into the lake, wordlessly, a mirror of his previous gesture. It lacks the same velocity, the same perfect arc through the air, instead landing with a subdued entry into the water.]

…It’s fine, Lieutenant. It might have been unfair of me to put those expectations on you, anyway.

[He thought to come here to make him feel better, to maybe make the both of them feel more grounded. Maybe that was a mistake.]

Would it be all right for me to sit here for a few minutes?