By all rights he should have been resting. His shift had ended a couple hours ago. Shifts weren't something he always abided by. He had a tendency to work straight through one shift into the next but the people he worked with had been keeping on top of him since his return, insisting he needed the rest and breaks. It was probably wise given his tendency to work himself to the bone but he hated being mothered so. So, he'd left his work station and gone home.
Sleep had seemed impossible at the time. The middle of the night and he’d been wide awake, exhaustion throbbing at the back of his eyes but every part of his body tense, unnecessary adrenaline running rampant just under his skin, itching to be used. So, he’d changed and taken to letting it out on one of the bags in the training room. That was, until he’d tired his arms out. He’d spent some running, working on his footing, and run some drills he'd learned as a foundling. Not for the first time, Faulk was a bit miffed that he couldn't learn anything past the basics. The knowledge he was given access to as a scribe was something he would never have given up but a part of him mourned the loss of the opportunity that ranger training could have provided.
There was too much on his mind. Work and recovery and his family and the Acolyte. The man's death had caused a noticeable shift in people. Mistrust was running rampant, tensions were high. Faulk did his best to keep himself from getting too paranoid but it was difficult when a man was dead and nobody knew how he'd died. He refused to believe it was exposure. He couldn't let himself believe it was exposure. Because that meant that they couldn't leave, they couldn't go outside. That meant that they'd never be able to go outside and that wasn't a possibility he was willing to entertain. What they needed right now was definitive proof the outside was survivable and for a new Acolyte to be elected to help restore stability.
And there was another thought: who would the new Acolyte be? The thought had certainly crossed his mind that he could be among those considered. It was something his parents had prepared him for, certainly, and he had no doubt the next time he saw his mother she would bring the subject up. She was relentless, even after all these years. But it wasn't the job that he wanted, per se, but the ability the position could give him to do more than his current station did. But that was neither here nor there and there wasn't much use in lingering on 'what ifs'.
He was back at the bag when he heard someone behind him. Barely. They came in on his left side and with his heart pounding in his ears he didn't register them until they spoke. He finished his rep and turned, brow furrowing slightly at the sight of the younger man. Their new Rex. Well, moderately new still. He moved over to the bench he'd left his shirt on and pulled it back over his head. “It's late. Why aren't you asleep?” It was a hypocritical question given what he was currently doing but a valid one nonetheless.