[Three Hours After Bastian's Descent]
The lift shuddered as it reached its destination; the groan of the primordial stone, its weight sliding into place as it stopped echoing against the ears of those who stood on it.
Even as he fidgeted with the silver spear held between his hands, brushing his black, fingerless gloves against the metal, the bandana-touting adolescent couldn't hide his nervousness.
A slap sharply placed itself against his shoulder with enough force behind it that it briefly felt as though a bull had rammed him from behind.
"Ah!--Hey!" Gaston looked back, yelling sharply.
Hearty laughter sprouted from the woman of fiery-red hair and an imposing stature, holding her fist up as a gesture, "Loosen up, kid. You're worried about your friend, right? I have a pretty keen intuition, and it's telling me he's alive and kicking. So, let's worry about ourselves, yeah?" Brunhilde assured him.
