Upon seeing the immense wormhole that was composed of nothing but dark matter and emptiness, Mordecai's eyes widened to the point that a witness would fear their popping from the sockets. His first instinctual reaction was to take hold of the rail, and he did just that, gripping it tightly with his massive arm. Bracing himself for what shock he was sure would come, he grabbed Arya my the arm with his free hand, her being the nearest to him, perhaps a bit too hard.<br/><br/>The initial rattling- no, 'rattling did it absolutely no justice, and Mordecai doubted that 'tremors' would either- of the ship as it shot into the portal would have thrown him to the hard, metal floor had he not been exercising a vise-like grip on the railing. Holding onto Arya as best as he could, he let up not even the tiniest bit until they'd gone beyond the part of the jump that shook the ship to its core. Once smoother sailing had been reached, Mordecai had finally released his hold on the rail; he had to wrench his hand from it, seeing as he'd managed to twist and warp the metal from how hard he'd clenched his fist.<br/><br/>Although his expression settled to its neutral demeanor once again, it was obvious that he did not handle the shock as well as he had thought. His forehead was wet with cold, gritty sweat, and he was breathing a bit heavily. Unable to shake the feeling that something was bound to go wrong, all that Mordecai was able to hope for was that nobody had died.<br/><br/>Being told that there was to be a feast in the mess hall did little to lighten his heart, although if they were still able to be serving food to the entire crew, Mordecai at least took note that they were, for the time being, in good condition. Looking to both Wilhelm and Arya, he asked them politely, "Have any of you been hurt?" with genuine concern.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>