[ Another flinch in his memory, and his head feels like it's going to crack down the middle: the pain is unbearable, strange glimpses of things he doesn't recognize, stories that don't seem real, this man before him and his cheerful voice, all of it mixing and melting into something that he can't even try to comprehend. The headaches are terrible, but they rarely go on for this long: the pain blossoms in his vision, and with a hiss, he ducks his head for a moment, trying to steady himself.
But the thought continues--the thought pulls at him, sharp and insistent: How does he know my name?
For a moment, he can't muster up the words. His breath comes through clenched teeth, forcing it out slowly; he takes the opportunity of a brief moment of clarity to smooth out his shoulders, straightening up like some sort of mechanical toy brought to rest. ]
I don't know who you are. [ --is what he manages to say, slowly. It feels like a lie. After all, clearly this man is SOLDIER, isn't he? ] But you...should carry the...crates. They'll give you coin, and...
[ Wincing, he starts to turn away. Better to leave this man to his devices--this is what trying to be helpful gets him. ]
no subject
But the thought continues--the thought pulls at him, sharp and insistent: How does he know my name?
For a moment, he can't muster up the words. His breath comes through clenched teeth, forcing it out slowly; he takes the opportunity of a brief moment of clarity to smooth out his shoulders, straightening up like some sort of mechanical toy brought to rest. ]
I don't know who you are. [ --is what he manages to say, slowly. It feels like a lie. After all, clearly this man is SOLDIER, isn't he? ] But you...should carry the...crates. They'll give you coin, and...
[ Wincing, he starts to turn away. Better to leave this man to his devices--this is what trying to be helpful gets him. ]