It was a very long, very quiet walk down. Greg didn't talk much; there wasn't anything he wanted to talk about, and also he suspected he might really be ill if he opened his mouth too much. Instead, he focused everything on putting one foot in front of the other and staying upright. It was a tall tower, after all, and Greg still wasn't steady on his feet. Having someone to lean on (heavily) on made a huge difference.

Wash also helped in ensuring Greg kept actually moving. There was a part of him that dreaded returning to the apartments, to everyone. He could only imagine how upset Rose would be with him, for pulling that stunt, for being so careless, for making her think he'd...

And the guys, they were likely upset, getting jerked around like this... what the heck was he supposed to say to them, to assure he was fine and skip everything awkward? Couldn't there just be a way to pretend like everything was normal? Maybe, if he didn't say anything at all, things would be normal. His body was back to normal, after all. So maybe he could just pretend.

It was stupid, he knew. Not a word of it was said to Wash, but just having his friend there made sure he didn't stall any more than needed, in spite of the pit of dread in his gut.

When they finally made it back, there was no one inside Greg's apartment. All that had changed was Rose's sword, gone missing... well, that wasn't a big surprise. He needed to find her. She was probably out somewhere, alone, and she couldn't be, not anymore, he needed to let her know. There was a small chance--faint, unlikely, but still the smallest possibility--that she hadn't run off and shut herself away. Maybe, just maybe, Bones and Casey were looking after her. He had to check, before he went looking.

Exhausted, uncertain, afraid, Greg let Wash push open the door to the shared apartment room.