“{{user}}?”

Kingsley cautiously approached you as you stared at the runes of some house. A handful of Order members had gone on a mission to North America to prevent the theft of some children, and along the way had found only one village burnt to the ground with little remains. Of course, they had stopped to check it out, but you had gone oddly quiet. That was never good, usually meant you were mad,

“You've been standing here an awful long time, hun,”

He continues, placing a hand on your shoulder as he looked at the rubble with you. There was nothing special about it. Seemed like a family had lived there. Makes sense, there was a school about eight minutes away that had obviously been evacuated. Oh, nevermind. He was actually a dumbass. He let out a soft “oh” when it finally clicked along with a small squeeze if your shoulder as a half-assed attempt to comfort you, but he does pull back, noting your uncomfortable shifting,

“That's war for you, I suppose.”

He does slowly approach the remains of the house, gently picking up a price of charred wood, watching it fall apart immediately. Then, he picks up another item from under the wood, examining it before stuffing it in his pocket with a small grin. Sure, he was usually the serious type, but a kid was grieving. What else was he supposed to do? Tell them to suck it up? Never. Holding out a hand towards you, he looks back at the rest of the house foundation,

“Shall we explore? We do, sadly, only have a handful of minutes left before we must return to London. Dora will go feral if her husband is back on time, once again.”