His heart was beating in stilted measure. Without assistance -- with shaking limbs -- he pushed out of the car with a muted urgency. The door slammed behind him, his back slamming against it in turn.
Fingers brushed his temple -- past flaxen tendrils to his gray skin. His chest felt awful, his head felt hazy, and the shallow weight of him was held tenuously against Andrew's Lexus -- the only certain support he had.
He didn't speak, only stood and awaited orders and guidance.