For lack of organic reasons to be busy, Dan’s been making work for himself, coordinating a big party that he hopes will be a much-needed release valve for many of the harried, weary adults in Rivendell, squad or not. Elf magic has cleansed his body of infection, and though he’s still using a crutch, now that his leg wound is healing he’s up and about meeting new people and arranging supplies and practicing clavichord.

It’s left him not checking in on his people as much as he might have wished.

He hasn’t spoken with Elle since the incident with Price, and he realizes that only when he hears her pained groan bouncing around a hallway as he hobbles back from the kitchen. He picks up his pace, turning the corner to find her sitting there against a wall, looking at nothing and yet in some sort of profound agony that is evident on its face as grief.

He clacks his crutch against the floor as he goes over to her and kneels, hoping that the sound will alert her to his presence before he has to potentially startle her with physical contact.

“Elle-!” he says firmly, not harshly, choosing to speak between her screams so he doesn’t have to raise his voice to try and get her attention. “Elle! Elle, you’re here. You’re safe.”