He could go either way, and either way he will be going, so the question sort of walks into his head but doesn't have a direction that first one. When she's looking up in an endlessly familiar way, which is still the way almost anyone on a beach does. Except she's without a towel or sunscreen or anything else for beach going. Just like she hit the doors and all if called her name, so she went as she was.

Something Steve understands all too well, hooking his gaze briefly out on the endless waves. Somewhere he ends up every morning, and sometimes at night. When it's there even now. Some thick, dark, nearly pulsation thing in the back of his head and the pit of his stomach, that could just go, right now even. Throw it all out, keep going and going, until it eats all the faces, all the facts, all the questions.

That he keeps pulling back from. Controlling down. Shoving under his thumb. Dragging himself away from.

The way he drags his eyes from the waves and back to her, when she asks the second question.

"It's being wishful to think Chin went home at any point after getting off the case yesterday morning."

At the time when it was pushing it to even call it morning. It was lucky if he'd seen anything more than vending machine food, whatever Kono brought him, when Kono'd been there, and sleeping in one of those chairs. If you could ever call it actually sleeping. Especially if Malia had woken up today.

If it'd been Mary, or one of his team, teetering on that peak,he might not have even slept at all.