It doesn't take long. Less than a minute divided, and she knows— with the innate help of her omnicom— that he's drifting out of range. Lost, maybe.

(Oye, you're heading the wrong way. I'm going to lose your signal if you keep this up.)

Another beat. Two. Has he lost his mind? What is he doing?

(Gabriel, turn around— can you hear me? Turn—

—abri— don't— )

And then, with a dull hiss, the line goes dead.