He moves to walk away.
Gordon’s reaction is instant. He grabs onto the back of the man’s parka with one hand and plants his feet. “No!” he shouted, his voice shaky. “You– you’re staying here!” God, no, he can’t have anyone running off, not after what he just saw. Not after he’d just seen this man lunge at the crowd, not after that thing in the sky, not after the incomprehensible mess that reminded him far too much of what he’d seen in Xen. He needed answers, he needed–
The arm he’s grabbing onto him with has a sleeve. It’s a thick winter coat. It’s gray. It’s not orange.
He looks down at his stump– no, arm. His normal, fully intact arm, covered with a garish orange arm warmer that has “Half Life” written on it in Comic Sans.
He’s not Gordon Freeman.
He’s John.
With that realization comes the other one that he’s currently gripping onto the parka of somebody that’s got a solid foot on him and could probably pulverize his bones into dust. He doesn’t let go. He thinks about it, when the man turns with a look that he really hopes isn’t murderous, but to be honest with himself he’s frozen in place.
“I didn’t think this through,” he stammers.
-
GUESS WHO GOT TO DO STUFF IN THE MOTW CAMPAIGN YESTERDAY and then immediately followed it up with like 5 hours of d&d and went immediately to sleep
big angry bear on the right is @craftlands‘s character Skalde! …also the arm warmer was a gift from az and john can’t decide if he loves it or hates it
