Eddy's already naturally gravitated to the back where, though slouching as ever and with Armani hanging off him, he's got the best view of the group. He's not here to play the hero, just make sure everyone survives. With no wand to worry in his pocket, he's taken to resting his other hand on Winter's shoulder. Tactile confirmation that the two people he's most concerned about here are safe. He nods silently to encourage her forward now that the space won't allow it.

It's not a welcoming space, but still seems leagues beyond the alternative.

"Let's go," he instructs the self-appointed leaders, voice soft but firm. They might be going through literal Hell on earth, but he's unsure why every move they take needs a discussion. Fists first thinking from a boy normally crippled by social anxiety. "Need to get those supplies."