[Reaction.] Partway into the conversations on the forum, and he's already grabbed his bag to leave the town and this utter madness behind. He doesn't move quickly enough, though, and the room waveres. He sits, but that's all he has time to do, and then he's getting a tattoo, which feels like the proper and right thing to do in the skin he's currently wearing.
He feels the ghost of the tattoo artist's hair against his face, and he wonders at the mask and the gloves, because that's a bit of himself slipping into the moment. But he's generally submerged, having no powers or abilities to keep him from it. And like the last, he rides this wave, the retching, the ink, the drink after.
There's a complete lack of comprehension after. The bag, the one he didn't manage to fill, is at his feet, and his head feels like it does after a particularly bad seizure. If not for the forums, he would think this was that, a grand mal, a bad one, but he knows better now. He's not certain if that makes him more soothed or not.
Sluggishly, he begins to move again, packing things into the backpack that is his current home. He still thinks about it, about the black gunk not-him vomited up. He runs the back of his hand over his mouth, and he packs more quickly. But partway, he returns to the forums, because curiosity is a curious bedfellow.