"That's the truth." It could be taken as a positive--that a new day did not bring a guarantee of disaster--but the way Jess said it, that guarantee was implicit. He knew better. They both did. The potential for danger was everywhere and things could, and would, go wrong. It was only a matter of time in that regard.

Control what you can, be ready for what you can't, as his father would say.

Would Callum have expected him to survive this long? Jess honestly didn't know the answer to that. All he knew was that he didn't care for the idea of having it all end on account of an earthquake. That felt... anticlimactic, in a twisted sort of way. He'd expected to go out knowing the hand holding the purse strings of his would-be assassin belonged, without a doubt, to the Library. If he died now, he'd never know for sure.

Dropping his hand, he moved to the door to meet Thorfinn. "Don't worry it. We can handle the inn. There's enough people here now to get the job done fast." Ignoring the fact that Jess was handling the bulk of it himself. Thorfinn was walking off a hard day's labor, and there was no point having him stay at the inn when he had his own work to do at his bungalow. Jess wouldn't ask any of them to turn their attention off their own preparations.

"How was it out there?" He gestured, indicating the axe.