Toby did not associate that the scent might be precursor to a Gift. He always knew if something was Gift related. But not this time.

It happened all at once.

It felt like...nothing. It felt quiet in his head. He couldn't remember a time it felt this quiet. Even before his empathy manifested, he had always sensed something: the flickers of old Gifts lingering like pollution on the ash, Spire nearby, or some distant ashlander. But it felt silent now. He could look at all of the others and see them without any sixth senses getting in the way. It was simple. This was how everyone else experienced his friends.

It was a relief. Yet...
It didn't seem like enough. 

The mutilator by the well would have to wait. [color=lightblue] "Don't do anything stupid," [/color] said Toby, running to meet the rumbling in the ground that signified the arrival of the tank.

He rounded the corner just in time to see Rei crumpling, a lifeless sack of meat.

[color=lightblue] "Rei!" [/color]

He paled. If his Gift was gone, and so was everyone else's... He saw Drake stumbling outside. At least he had woken up before the nullification, or he might be dead for good. But what did this mean for Montana, Reith - even Larke...? Soren and Clockwork's connection?

They might all be dead. And he couldn't tell. It felt too quiet.

He started toward, Rei, but then he heard a small voice. "Stop it."

Toby wasn't especially fond of Hel, since he felt certain only Spire stood between her tormenting Toby as her demented puppet, but seeing Hel stand up in front of Sweet Johnny and his war machine endeared her to him a bit, and also petrified him - somehow she was sorta almost family. He made toward her, but not before this Johnny buried her in fabric.

As he freed Hel from the coat, tossing it very deliberately into the dirt, he placed hand on her shoulder to try to keep her from attacking Sweet Johnny tooth and nail (as he could very well picture her doing), his other hand raised his handgun to point at the slaver's temple.

A liberated, giddy sort of feeling suddenly erupted inside Toby. He could shoot this man and not feel it. Physically, anyway. And suspension of his empathy Gift was enough to suspend his natural empathy, too. He had not felt so coldly willing to kill for a long time.

[color=lightblue] "An offer we c--can't refuse, huh? Let's hear it. If you say something cliche like, 'hand it over quietly and you g--get to live,' I'm shooting you right now," [/color] said Toby.