"Then it is a good thing that I am here to turn your situation around. Come, let me help you, my dear. Our tent is not far."
He's prepared to carry Venus back to their camp if need be, if she would allow it, of course, and he's so engrossed in her that he almost doesn't hear the other voice in spite of it's familiarity. He might have chalked it up to a hallucination, a peculiar wandering of his imagination due to the stress of the Arena. But the voice seems to real, so comforting, like his friend might be there, standing right behind him. At last, he whips his head around to see.
"Joly!" There's nothing calm or professional in his voice. For Courfeyrac, it is all emotional. Elation and rage, mingled together in a toxic and furious combination. Grasping Venus tightly still, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This cannot be. It cannot be. I've gone mad in this place."
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He's prepared to carry Venus back to their camp if need be, if she would allow it, of course, and he's so engrossed in her that he almost doesn't hear the other voice in spite of it's familiarity. He might have chalked it up to a hallucination, a peculiar wandering of his imagination due to the stress of the Arena. But the voice seems to real, so comforting, like his friend might be there, standing right behind him. At last, he whips his head around to see.
"Joly!" There's nothing calm or professional in his voice. For Courfeyrac, it is all emotional. Elation and rage, mingled together in a toxic and furious combination. Grasping Venus tightly still, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This cannot be. It cannot be. I've gone mad in this place."