Sarah had been trying to talk to Georg, who didn't seem to be paying attention at all. Just a nod or a tense smile here and there, with a flinch and a glance at the window whenever there was a crack of thunder. She had been getting ready to be upset with him, but Alfred's message -- she calms. Presses closer. Strokes his hair.

Herbert, meanwhile, is trembling as the storm grows closer. Gets louder with every thunderstrike. Digging his fingers into Alfred's back. The panic, the fear is coming off him in waves along with frustration. He doesn't know how to calm himself back down and he's usually so composed. So in control of himself. "I hate this," he sighs and curls up on the mattress, his head in Alfred's lap.