[There's no sense in which Prior imagines what he's doing is reasonable or well thought through. What it is, is survival, because the one thing he's sure of right now - and it may be panic that's telling him this, it may be that he's been shut in one room for too long already to bear any more of it, it may be that silence and solitude are two of the most terrifying words in his lexicon just now, but no one's offering to tend to the things running wild in his head and he is sure of it - is that he's more likely to survive if he keeps running.

Fight or flight's kicked in belatedly and hard, and he's not yet worked himself up enough for fighting. It'll come, though, watch him.

But his intention there was misworded or mistaken or both, and that he does correct.] Then they won't call you. I wasn't planning to ask.

[Not for John to drag himself across the city, nor for him to check that Prior's all right when there are roomfuls of people who aren't. He hadn't let John come for him during the riots, there's no sudden expectation here.]

I'm not taking myself off the Sanctuary's hands to spare them - or you - the work, or to cause more. I am going because if I stay here I will go crazy. And I am crazy enough. So.

[Somewhere in there his voice chokes up, already rougher than it should be with the number the gas did on his throat it stutters and stalls until he forces it through, sudden tears catching on his eyelashes with the forced reminder that he's at least as scared as he is angry, but anger's an easier thing to be.]

But maybe we all are. I don't think anyone's sane if they do all right after this.

[He should say something about what John tells him about his side of the rescue. The Prior of a week ago would have been all concern. But that Prior had less clawing at him, it's all he can do just now to see beyond animal instinct. He's got a headlight stare and if he stays frozen too long he's done for. So he moves.]

Don't let me take up more of your time.