Figg stared at Belladonna as she worked, the worry only growing into a tighter and tighter knot inside of his heart the longer it went on.
Every mutter, every not-so-sure frown, every time she checked her notes. That was a stab in the heart, and when she had to erase what she was doing and redraw it? He nearly had a panic attack right there and then.
I mean sure, he could die. Dying was not what he was worried about, he had done it plenty in here. In Dawd, Death was an inconvenience at most.
What Figg worried about was not Dying. Literally.
As soon as she put the thought in his head, he could not stop dwelling on the image of being stuck inside of a wall.
It was a complete unknown to him, which meant that his imagination was eager to fill in the blanks. What would it feel like, to be entangled with another object? Would it hurt, and how much? Would he ever be able to get his body out of it or would he be stuck as part of a wall until he died?
