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Delilah
Rich rarely experienced the feeling of looking into a crowded room and only seeing one person. In fact, the arresting jerk and tunneling of vision was something he'd thought his mind only reserved for the late Deidra McKinnon. Tonight, however, he was being proven wrong because the moment that he spotted Delilah, no one else in the room existed to him.

Having no idea what had happened to her during the outbreak, Rich had been distraught throughout his delirium. He'd been told that even in his near-death state, he'd called out for her and asked for her, though he knew she wasn't even in the country. After the virus had passed and he'd been allowed an owl again, Rich had immediately tried to send her a message. All he knew was that she was out of the country and he had no idea how else to get in contact with her because she wasn't around in the journals. Then someone had told him that he ex had died from the virus and Rich was beside himself with worry.

Now though, here they both were and she was all Rich could see. He was given such pause that he couldn't move, he couldn't even speak. Did she even want him anymore? What had happened to her? Gods, if only he could make himself move.

Delilah suddenly glanced in his direction. Their gazes met and Rich was stating across the room, not paying much attention to where he was going or who he was squeezing or brushing past. Then he was standing in front of her her, his hands flexing at his sides for want to hold her, and all he could say was a quiet and somewhat relieved yet tight, "Hi."