[ Life can be fleeting. This strange respite that Miller has had from the feeling of constantly facing down death has not changed the years, decades, of needing to change plans at a moment's notice. While he takes no pleasure in leaving the poor woman's body behind, they can debrief once they're out of harm's way. Though frankly, he is just relieved that Toph didn't end up like the man they're trying to save.
Which is why as they make their way back, his focus is split between making headway as fast as they can and on making sure that Toph is still close by to him. They have this out now, but who can say how long it might last? He can't stop to think about it, or god forbid to pay any mind to the physical toll it is taking on him. The latter is easier to push past, knowing it will be fine so long as they get out of this hot zone, but it is becoming more clear the further that they make it that the former is something he is not wrong to worry about.
Still, this continues for a while, the two of them both silently pressing onward while he holds his tongue. This is in no thanks to the fact that his filter is completely clogged now and the heat of his own heavy breath, together with the muggy weight of the miasma, is becoming unbearable. But with no way to address it, he lets it go. That is, until a slight shuffling sound causes him to turn back to see her stumbling.
And then, the way her voice comes out makes his breath catch in his throat, and he stops in his tracks. Unscrewing the filter with his free hand, he throws it on the ground unceremoniously, his voice more clear in his response to her. ]
Of course. I'm right here.
[ Backtracking to grab her hand in his own, he adjusts the hold of the local over his shoulder once more, and gently pulls to lead her forward. ]
There is not much further to go. Just a little more.
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Which is why as they make their way back, his focus is split between making headway as fast as they can and on making sure that Toph is still close by to him. They have this out now, but who can say how long it might last? He can't stop to think about it, or god forbid to pay any mind to the physical toll it is taking on him. The latter is easier to push past, knowing it will be fine so long as they get out of this hot zone, but it is becoming more clear the further that they make it that the former is something he is not wrong to worry about.
Still, this continues for a while, the two of them both silently pressing onward while he holds his tongue. This is in no thanks to the fact that his filter is completely clogged now and the heat of his own heavy breath, together with the muggy weight of the miasma, is becoming unbearable. But with no way to address it, he lets it go. That is, until a slight shuffling sound causes him to turn back to see her stumbling.
And then, the way her voice comes out makes his breath catch in his throat, and he stops in his tracks. Unscrewing the filter with his free hand, he throws it on the ground unceremoniously, his voice more clear in his response to her. ]
Of course. I'm right here.
[ Backtracking to grab her hand in his own, he adjusts the hold of the local over his shoulder once more, and gently pulls to lead her forward. ]
There is not much further to go. Just a little more.