( rhys, conversely, is not adept in the same things that make newt a genius. technology is still a bit of a question mark for him, labelled with sticky notes that say think about this later, wherein later never quite comes. that said — it isn't a far stretch to imagine the danger in newt's hand, though rhys has no idea what a switch is used for, except toasting bread in this thing called a toaster. a barely there flinch crosses his expression, a gleam of danger in his eyes. the pulse on the side of his neck beats rapid fire with the new invisible threat, panic alchemically shifting to adrenaline in his veins.

he doesn't look to the door. won't risk alina's safety. he'll just have to trust that she'll be there, when it become imperative. until then — )

Newt. ( foxlike, his head tilts in an almost otherworldly way, shoulders tense with a distinct rigidity. his hands are still in his pockets, but it's like a bomb waiting to go off — he could lunge at any time. ) There are women and children on this train.

( newt would care, wouldn't he? he was the one who brought up the girls in rhys' life when he was on the ledge of jumping. rhys could've predicted that threats weren't going to work — but tempting with empathy is a slippery slope, the kind that pummels you when you put faith in it. stepping along the perimeter of the room, rhys moves them as slyly as he can, until newt's back is almost parallel to the door. optimal position. )

People you love are on this train. I'll tell you — it's quite a bit easier to love someone when they're alive. ( he frowns, jaw setting, eyebrows furrowed by his own seriousness. ) This isn't you, Eye of Newt. You told me you wanted to live, after I kissed you. ( he taps his own temple. ) Right here. So why are you doing everything you can to assure your own end? We can help you, all of us. We will help you. Stand up and fight for yourself.