[ He continues to stare at her, unflinching, as she goes through her explanation. Part of it is just his natural reaction; part of it is forcing himself to be still so he doesn't do anything stupid-- give someone a reason to tell him what to do-- That doesn't help.
He does follow her gesture with his eyes; takes in people reacting to what looks like absolutely nothing. So that adds a little bit of credibility to what she's saying. Unless everyone in this bar he was forcibly directed into is somehow in on a very elaborate scheme, which, he's pretty sure a crowd of this size couldn't pull it off. Someone would break.
He shifts his gaze back to her. Standing out like that would be. He's never really cared all that much. Not really. But if he can't do anything... He feels the stupid fucking flip flops on his feet, how useless they are, how easy it would be to bring him down out there and yeah. He doesn't want that. ]
There's no good option, is there. [ Definitely not a question this time. He's caught somewhere between resignation while still keeping alert for any one possible out he could have, no matter how small the crack. There's still a violence just under his surface; his fists clench and unclench reflexively, like they had when he'd been forced on his way to Red Wings to begin with.
Logically, he knows he's not going to be able to do much again and it's hard not to see his past before him but it's a little tough to access logic here. ]
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He does follow her gesture with his eyes; takes in people reacting to what looks like absolutely nothing. So that adds a little bit of credibility to what she's saying. Unless everyone in this bar he was forcibly directed into is somehow in on a very elaborate scheme, which, he's pretty sure a crowd of this size couldn't pull it off. Someone would break.
He shifts his gaze back to her. Standing out like that would be. He's never really cared all that much. Not really. But if he can't do anything... He feels the stupid fucking flip flops on his feet, how useless they are, how easy it would be to bring him down out there and yeah. He doesn't want that. ]
There's no good option, is there. [ Definitely not a question this time. He's caught somewhere between resignation while still keeping alert for any one possible out he could have, no matter how small the crack. There's still a violence just under his surface; his fists clench and unclench reflexively, like they had when he'd been forced on his way to Red Wings to begin with.
Logically, he knows he's not going to be able to do much again and it's hard not to see his past before him but it's a little tough to access logic here. ]