Re: NYC Streets: Helena/Seven
[Even as he stands there and initially fights against the pull that has him hooked around the waist, he couldn't really say with any certainty with he is upright or laying horizontal on the pavement. Or even if he's actually conscious. Except there's an intense, roiling heat pressing against his back that has scarlet drips of sweat (blood) trickling under the collar of his jacket. So hot. Maybe it's the sun and yeah, he's laying down, with the noxious smell of burning rubber in his nose.]
Lat... er. [He flips the word around on his tongue experimentally. Decides that he likes the taste of it and staggers forward a half-step towards the voice, tripping into her side with a heavy arm around her shoulders. The words feel like a warm blanket of calm and reassurance, of sleep. The hold on his wrist hurts something down under the surface where bone and tendon has been wrenched out of place, but sleep will take it away.
He makes it about twenty assisted steps from the destroyed pickup before both knees come down to kiss the asphalt.