Usually, the public showers were an ordeal of humility and frayed nerves for Tolten, and after he was shaken and brooding. Not today. His mood hadn't changed in the least since the night before, though now his anger partially encompassed his beloved companion. He hardly knew nor cared if it were justified, it simply was.

Which was why he found himself seeking out Edgar. They barely knew one another, but this man was Locke's closest friend. If there was anyone in this place Tolten could speak to on the subject...

He approached, his expression uncharacteristically hard. There was a sad tiredness in his eyes, though, beneath the fire and steel. He could only be fueled by his righteous anger for so long. His own illness was wearing at him as well as his worry.

"I'd like to speak with you," he said, simply. His voice was ragged.