His voice trailed away.

“We know nothing of the Beast. Not really,” True said. “But I see what you’re saying. It’s unprecedented, all that’s happening. And if there is some force that does not wish peace and prosperity—”

“But feeds from war and greed—”

“It will rise to put a stop to progress.”

“It is a supposition,” Alfie said.

“It is also a supposition to think the quakes have stopped because the last one was the worst and he no longer rises, he’s risen. And he lays in wait. But I must admit to my mind turning to that and doing it often.”

True and Alfie stared at each other.

The door opened and Bronagh bustled through.

Alfie looked to the door.

True kept his gaze to his friend, and thus saw Alfie’s face change instantly from speculative and concerned to inhospitable and annoyed.

True turned to her when Bronagh stopped at the foot of the bed and put her hands to her hips, regarding Alfie while noting, “I see you’re your usual chipper self today.”

“I see you unfortunately did not fall off a cliff since your last post,” Alfie returned.

True drew in a sharp breath.

Bronagh’s pretty face went stricken before it looked like it would crumble.

“Alfie,” he whispered.

But Alfie was looking like he’d give anything to rise from that bed on his own power, not to walk, not to ride, not to fight.

But to take his feet in order to properly apologize.

“That was—” he began.

Bronagh quickly hid her emotion behind efficiency and interrupted him to query, “Are you in pain?”

“Bronagh—” Alfie started gently.

“Are you in pain, sir?” she demanded.

“No,” he said.

“You will call if you’re in pain. I’ll be outside the door.”

And with that, she turned and scurried to and through the door, closing it behind her.

“Fuck,” Alfie muttered.

True considered carefully what to do next.

And out of necessity, he made a quick decision.

“That was not my captain,” he stated.

Alfie looked to him. “True—”

“I don’t know who that man was, but he was not you,” True informed him flatly. “I cannot begin to imagine the many things plaguing your mind and your body. But the Alfie Henriksson I know would never speak like that to a woman. Indeed, to anyone.”

“She draws up ire in me, I know not where it stems,” Alfie admitted.

True stood, looked down at his friend and shared it openly.

“It stems from the fact you’re attracted to her. You feel the same from her. And you’re convinced it can go nowhere. Thus, you wish to drive her away. I think she is one of the very few who have some inkling of what you’re going through, and what your life could become, if you fight for it. And she comes here every day and looks at you like she looks at you so that tells me what your life could become, and who you could have in it, if you fought for it.”