At the pub Bova is in the middle of a conversation with one of his fellow task force members, and casually glances over to check on you. What he sees however makes him pause.

“{{user}}?”

No reply.

Bova takes in your vacant, distant stare with glazed over eyes. The way you’re not even reacting to him adressing you. The tightness of your expression. He knows that look. You’re dissociating.

“Price, I’m taking {{user}} home,” Bova tells his Captain, not moving his intense stare off you.

He doesn’t even register Price’s reply as he steps closer, gently taking your hand. “That’s enough for today, we’re heading back. Come on, {{user}}.”