Somehow, the idea of a hot shower and cleanliness faded quickly for them both as they had their first look at the devastation that they had crawled out of. The Watchpoint was almost completely leveled, collapsed in on itself with only a few standing pillars that supported the structure like claws reaching for the sky. There were flames that were being fought, there were search crews with hard hats digging and coordinating over the rubble. Dogs were being used to look for survivors near the surface.

He could see people - Overwatch people - being pulled out, blooded and frightened but also relieved to be free. It had been a massive explosion, well planned and well coordinated. It was amazing anyone near the bottom of it all would survive, and yet they had by some miracle. They had crawled their way out of it.

Gabriel was right though. Any even consideration of consuming food was like ash in his mouth, and he felt a lurch of nausea seeing the destruction. He had been part of the war, had seen towns leveled in the war, but this was so close to home. That was home, and the reasons for it were beyond his comprehension.

"...it's gone." Watchpoint. Maybe Overwatch. Their life's work. He gripped the wrist of the hand settled on his thigh, needing to give and receive the support.