It was a testament to how detached Martin had become, how easily he could set his mind to the task of fetching what Bariyan had asked for without wondering why, without stopping to observe Bariyan himself and understand his unease. It had been the other way around months ago, with Bariyan lost in the drink and his own misery, and Martin, more than just a boy, watching every move, counting every second of every sigh. Such was the way of mankind, so deeply immersed in the present, in things that touched the five senses, and not those things beyond.

He was more human then than he ever had been, yet that conclusion would hardly come to mind by his own thinking. Not as he was, then and there. Even if he thought to question why he was so quick to wake, quick to obey, he would have been unable to even scratch at the truth of the matter. It's a promise had become it just is that way.

Despite his blindness, however, Martin grew still and stared, biting down on what he had begun to say upon finding the tablet. Bariyan's posture caused a shudder of unease in him, watering the content look on his face to something more blank – blank as he watched and tried to understand.

"Bariyan?"

He moved toward him, still on his knees, and leaned, trying to peer past Bariyan's fingers to find his face.