They'd all been placed in the same small room, so many other people were wounded and seeking shelter that they had no choice. The most critically injured of the group got the beds, the rest of them made due with blankets on the floor. The food rations were terrible, and Asher felt about as impatient as Jack looked. He watched his friend pace around the room. Although they were surrounded by military forces, Asher didn't really feel that much safer. 

He sat grimly with his back against one wall. "I agree," he piped up with Jack expressed his desire to leave, "Here, we're just waiting around to die. The enemy--" he'd taken to calling the invaders simply that, "--must be focusing their energy elsewhere or we'd probably already be dead. Those weapons of theirs could've leveled this place days ago. It's almost like they're…toying with us. Maybe trying to see what we can throw at them."

He looked around at the others. He'd underwent a dramatic change over the last few days, after the initial attack at the theatre. The quiet, introverted boy had steeled his nerves. Maybe he was still in shock, maybe he still wasn't recovered from the concussion, but maybe this was who he really was: someone sort of cold and unfeeling. He'd felt that way when his parents separated, when he went and hid himself away from the world. now he couldn't hide, he could only act. So out of necessity, he did so.

Rising from his feet he put a hand on Jack's shoulder to stop his pacing. "Underground is a good start, we should at least try it."