Chuck considers not answering him, but in the end he sits up and brushes the dirt off of his wetsuit, and stares at Raleigh with a fixed expression.

"What?"

No, he's not sleeping. He's still running on pure adrenaline and when he crashes, he's going to crash hard. For now though, he's too wound up and pent up and tense to even think about it. A twig snaps, he jumps. A bush rustles, he swings around, ready to pounce. Leaves above his head move with the breeze, and he holds his breath and waits for the axe to fall.

It still hasn't. Not yet.