The crowd of onlookers is restless, the constant fidgeting that comes with having to stand still and wait. Wait for the first execution of someone like themselves? Waiting to see if Thorne really is this ass backwards, that they're still using a noose.

Overlooking the other welcomed, Homelander kind of wishes for a guillotine. The gush of blood seems to fit the look on the guards faces more than something as clean as a noose.

Watching Jon march towards his death is at least something new, something different to set this day apart from every other boring day, and Homelander folds his arms across his chest, watching with bright eyes as everything clicks in to place.

And the dismay with it all falls apart, the speech from some random guy and the portals that spring up as people start talking, the crush of voices rising above the din of shuffles and the surprised gasps. The running feet as everyone, just- everyone, start planning for a future.

Homelander strides in quick steps towards Jon, pushing his way through the throng of people. He catches up, voice angry;

"Where do you think you're going, Jon?"