[ only moments after finding that he's somehow stumbled into the heart of a city he doesn't know, piter de vries is nearly hit by a car.
the blare of a horn and a puzzled shout comprised mostly of expletives float after him as he dodges the vehicle and dashes away onto a sidewalk. equally puzzled stares and questions that he can only vaguely understand pursue him — "sir? sir, are you all right?" — "what's wrong with that man's eyes?" — "what is the matter with him?"
barely comprehending the endless, meaningless conversations that hover in the air all around him, he ducks into an alley between two buildings, trying to quiet his mind. there is too much confusion, too many sounds and sights and stimuli that he can't fully grasp. his hands are trembling; he focuses on stilling them, on looking "normal," and darts back onto the sidewalk. all there is left to do now is figure something out. make some plan, any plan. but for the moment, he's at a loss for what exactly to do. it's an atrocious feeling— so he just keeps moving, eyes raking over his surroundings searching for something, anything that can be of use. ]