It's not like any of the mornings here are eventful. Martin tends to wake up early to the sound of the guards changing, old and well-versed paranoia regaining its hold on him these past few weeks. So when something different happens, he's on high alert.

He rolls out of his bunk quickly: his movements are stiff and his energy lacking, but he clings to the bars to try and watch what the guards are doing, and he has a bad feeling--

...that's Jon. Jon being dragged out of the cell by guards, and bound, and marched cruelly away, and Martin stands on his toes despite himself to try and yell after them. "E-excuse me! Where are you taking him-- hey?"

Well, he's going to spend the next however long in a blind bloody panic. It doesn't particularly show on his face, at least, just in the way he sitting very still, not really looking at anyone, idly scratching light holes in his sleeves and deepening rivets in the skin around his elbows from his arms being folded.

When the doors suddenly open, and the man appears in the portal, Martin's almost ashamed of how quickly he gets up and throws the cell door open to follow him through. Even if he falters when he steps through, actually realising what he's seeing - the sight of Jon on the gallows, guards and Ambrose frozen around him while everyone else is moving in a panic; it's someone shoving past him that knocks the sense back into him when he stumbles, and then he actually looks around properly, trying to get his bearings.

"Oh God..."