[Doppio doesn't have a plan. Doppio barely has a clue, when all is said and done, and while he's hung up on trying to piece together what he remembers - he's not sure if he was at the top of the stairs or not, but he was-- somewhere, and he felt so tired all of a sudden - Bucciarati is already making a beeline towards him, and and he only gets as far as raising his arms defensively when he gets hit right in the face.]
Ugh!
[And just like that, he's back on the sand.]
What the hell, man?! [He plants his hands in the sand, lifts himself halfway up -] I really don't know what's going on, I swear! [ - and he sounds, he truly does, like he might just be on the verge of tears.
It's not just from the pain. No, the pain is... inconsequential, actually (and that reminds him, wasn't there something else that didn't hurt as much as he thought it should, not that long ago, not so much missiles obliterating flesh as pellets tearing through paper)? It's more the panic that's mounting, the increasingly incoherent picture that is being painted. Bucciarati knows something, but Doppio can't even begin to remember how that could have happened, because the last thing he remembers...
No, wait. The next to last thing he remembers...]
... Boss...?
[He doesn't mouth it as silently as he means to, but that's not the only way in which his body acts without his conscious approval. For some reason, the memory being stirred makes him bring a hand to his chest.]
wow i sure typed those words correctly in the order and fashion i was supposed to
Ugh!
[And just like that, he's back on the sand.]
What the hell, man?! [He plants his hands in the sand, lifts himself halfway up -] I really don't know what's going on, I swear! [ - and he sounds, he truly does, like he might just be on the verge of tears.
It's not just from the pain. No, the pain is... inconsequential, actually (and that reminds him, wasn't there something else that didn't hurt as much as he thought it should, not that long ago, not so much missiles obliterating flesh as pellets tearing through paper)? It's more the panic that's mounting, the increasingly incoherent picture that is being painted. Bucciarati knows something, but Doppio can't even begin to remember how that could have happened, because the last thing he remembers...
No, wait. The next to last thing he remembers...]
... Boss...?
[He doesn't mouth it as silently as he means to, but that's not the only way in which his body acts without his conscious approval. For some reason, the memory being stirred makes him bring a hand to his chest.]