it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I
Isla is on Ronin's other side, checking him over in a clinical way that speaks of horror that's very well compartmentalised. There's enough time at least to offer a brief nod to Remi as if to confirm that, yes, Ronin is breathing again and back from the great beyond or wherever he decided to hang out while he wasn't alive. One of the crew calls that the ambulance is on the way, leaving to the front of the house to wait for them - and presumably to get a much better phone signal.
For his part, Ronin's fingers are numb and his head is spinning, but he can feel Remi's grip on his shoulder as a point of searing warmth, something to orient himself in the flickering dark. His laugh is little more than a wet wheeze, and he shakes his head to the other man. "You did say I was method," he grates out, throat and chest sore and burning. "Fuck, I wanna get out of this basement."
Already he's moving as if to stand - undoubtedly a terrible idea, but still arguably better than being down here with whatever has just happened.
For his part, Ronin's fingers are numb and his head is spinning, but he can feel Remi's grip on his shoulder as a point of searing warmth, something to orient himself in the flickering dark. His laugh is little more than a wet wheeze, and he shakes his head to the other man. "You did say I was method," he grates out, throat and chest sore and burning. "Fuck, I wanna get out of this basement."
Already he's moving as if to stand - undoubtedly a terrible idea, but still arguably better than being down here with whatever has just happened.
when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die
