The longer she spoke, the more prominent the heavy, leaden feeling in his stomach became. He felt as if he opened his mouth to speak, he would just be sick. Scar's expression was difficult to read, as it always was, but his frown was troubled, confused. At least he was looking at her, not at the ground, or the slightly confused Pokémon on the ground between them.

He nodded, failing to brush off the nagging sensation at how pathetic it was that they had to resort to this. Nonverbal reassurances that they were even remotely on the same page. He briefly glanced away, trying to find a clock, but his eyes were drawn back to hers before he could find one. How long would it be? She looked just as nervous as he felt.

He knew she wasn't looking for a spoken answer, but he didn't want either of them to have to stand and wait for however long it would be. He knew he would only feel sicker and sicker, that the longer he let himself think, the more likely it would be that he would do something foolish. So,

"I'll be there." Yes, he almost lost his dinner.