The light was blinding again and his head throbbed painfully, but within a few moments, he was dragging himself off of the ground, leaning achingly against the side of the building again, his hands covering his eyes. The bright light of the square had been enough to set him off into a foul mood, but having such an agonizing premonition only made him hate his life more. He wanted to enjoy the scene, but a part of him refused.
"Sorry," he gasped, trying to hold himself up, though the strength of not only the event, but the subject, was weighing him down. "Go back to the boy," he got out, eventually finding his legs, shaking as he did such. "I'm fine."