After what felt like hours of senseless waiting, they heard someone take hold of the door, and every single one of them shot up.
A frown was plastered all over Neraxis's face. What if he hadn't healed his hand and actually gotten injured? He would have been forced to wait three more hours before seeing a healer.
This had better have been the fucking government knocking. He watched as the door opened, and some unfamiliar man greeted their sight.
Without introducing himself or speaking, he gestured for them to follow.
Of course, even if he was an unknown person, it was still better to be out there than in the prison-like rift room.
Nonetheless, Neraxis wanted to strike up a conversation.
"How long had it been since we all entered?"
And he succeeded in starting a conversation.