He moves to walk away.
Gordonâs reaction is instant. He grabs onto the back of the manâs parka with one hand and plants his feet. âNo!â he shouted, his voice shaky. âYouâ youâre staying here!â God, no, he canât have anyone running off, not after what he just saw. Not after heâd 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 heâd seen in Xen. He needed answers, he neededâ
The arm heâs grabbing onto him with has a sleeve. Itâs a thick winter coat. Itâs gray. Itâs not orange.
He looks down at his stumpâ no, arm. His normal, fully intact arm, covered with a garish orange arm warmer that has âHalf Lifeâ written on it in Comic Sans.
Heâs not Gordon Freeman.
Heâs John.
With that realization comes the other one that heâs currently gripping onto the parka of somebody thatâs got a solid foot on him and could probably pulverize his bones into dust. He doesnât let go. He thinks about it, when the man turns with a look that he really hopes isnât murderous, but to be honest with himself heâs frozen in place.
âI didnât think this through,â 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 @craftlandsâs character Skalde! âŚalso the arm warmer was a gift from az and john canât decide if he loves it or hates it
