His ears are ringing. Why would an angel's ears be ringing? How would anyone's ears be ringing with all the awful racket of this particular endeavor?
He stares ahead, feels as the trolly rattles and shakes and is once again attacked and slammed. He's knocked against the door again - probably a bruise or four, should he ever actually get those - but he holds on tighter, keeps his eyes ahead, watches as tourists yell and run out of the way. As they start to reach the temple, ahead at the trees past it.
He's gripping the door as tight as he can. He's not even blinking.
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His ears are ringing. Why would an angel's ears be ringing? How would anyone's ears be ringing with all the awful racket of this particular endeavor?
He stares ahead, feels as the trolly rattles and shakes and is once again attacked and slammed. He's knocked against the door again - probably a bruise or four, should he ever actually get those - but he holds on tighter, keeps his eyes ahead, watches as tourists yell and run out of the way. As they start to reach the temple, ahead at the trees past it.
He's gripping the door as tight as he can. He's not even blinking.
"Okay." Quiet enough, considering the racket.
He can do this. He's got to.