It is too imprecise and exaggerated a thing to describe the Primarch’s manner as harried.  Nevertheless, there was a tension in his gait, a swiftness to his manner that was not precise in more restive times.  “Commander,” he cuts the silence like a knife.  “You should see the reports from Earth.” A flickering datapad is proffered in a steady hand, belying the worry in his otherwise hardened gaze.

August  7   ( 7 )   +
HW