Ira blinked. Mitchell. Yes, he remembered Mitchell. He remembered desperation, and a desperate offer. He glanced at his arm, but there was nothing there to indicate anything had happened, and yet...Ira knew it had. He'd felt his heart beat, rapid with nerves and anticipation and hope, slow down to a low, uneven thud, and then fade all together.
He jerked his head, eyes focusing on Mitchell once again. A hand moved to swipe across his face. "My glasses. Where are my glasses?" He couldn't see without them. He shouldn't be able to see without his glasses. He wasn't going anywhere without them.