She wouldn't be alone, at least, though it was hard to say if that would end up being a good thing or a bad one. Jude was serious, frowning as he surveyed the damage, dark eyes narrowed in consideration. Somewhere, in here, was a stack of reports he needed to go through in search of discrepancies, and he was now more than mildly concerned that it was lost to the flood. It was unlikely that anything had survived the mess, which meant there was very little point in him being here now. He'd have to recreate them. From scratch.
He grimaced a little and, instead of retreating out of the room, he decided to linger. For a few minutes he just waded through the mess, taking in what had been destroyed and what was potentially salvageable. The soggy books were a crime, he thought, and so he started there: gathering up what he could and hugging it against his chest in a great stack until he found a dry surface to set it down on.
Of course, that dry surface was the table that Shaheen had just righted, and it wasn't even really that dry. The books hit the surface with a thud and Jude made
himself jump a little, surprised to find another person dealing with this disaster zone.
"Uh." He wasn't much of a conversationalist. He had no charisma. Death would have suited him.
"What are you doing here?" The question came out without any thought, and the second it was out, he knew it was a stupid one. Too late now.
