"This injury bug is bad," Mox mumbles, pacing around, scraping his fingers through his hair, biting at his lip. "I don't even know what we should do anymore."
"Losing Punk and Cardona is unfortunate, but we have more leeway than most do. NXT barely has one person, and Smackdown has two. We have seven left. It could always be worse."
Mox huffs at Miro, shrugging. "I still don't like it," he mumbles. They trudge on silently, allowing him space to break off now and again and continue his pacing.
"We've been without before, we'll do without again. Make do, as we always do," Heath says calmly, shrugging. "It's the wrestlers' way I suppose. Roll with the punches."
"See, he gets it," Miro says, pointing aggressively towards Heath. "He gets it. Besides, you have me back now. Who needs these other weak little men?"
No one responds to this and he huffs as they carry on, traveling through villages looking for something to do, a place to fix, creatures to save. "Anyone think it's suspiciously quiet lately?" Matt Rehwoldt asks, his fingers flexing anxiously as he looks around at the others.
"Yeah, kind of," Miro mumbles, the two of them walking close together so their partners can play at their feet as they walk.
"It's weird," he says. "That's something I don't like. In the slightest."
"Mm," Miro agrees. "Yes, I prefer knowing where the danger is at, instead of always waiting to see were it chooses to come from."
"Exactly," Matt sighs, the group of them falling silent once more as they make their way further away from the Digiport.
No matter where they check or what they do, they find nothing. It's late in the day when they give up and return to Luke's hideaway, the sense of foreboding intensifying the further they go without seeing anything problematic.
