He leans forward with shoulders hunched, hands tight against the broken glass until he feels it pierce the skin. Chris can hear back-up approaching, his name through hollow halls echoing even though they're in the same room. And so slightly, he rocks a little forward and back before bringing a hand to his forehead, the heel of his palm digging into his closed eye hard enough to see flashes of light as they're forcibly getting him to his feet. Just like a memory, his voice ghosts her name.