As Jermaine follows, his mind was stormy and meandering. Drifting to their childhood, to the loss of their mother, to that stupid fight in that fancy hotel that had been such a mistake, to his phone call with Bryce after the fact...

"I told you bro, I don't trust that demon... you gotta be careful."

That anger rose up in him again, unbidden, as they crested into the den. The scene was sweet and homey, makeshift tent bathed in warm candlelight and the overall glow of childhood memory. The only thing missing were the people. Jermaine felt his nails dig into his paw, wishing he could call Bryce now. There had to be somewhere he could put this anger. It didn't belong in a place like this.

"Maybe you should do something," he prompts, voice a little more curt than he strictly wanted to be.