Confronting the disconnect between what they're seeing might be pulling the rug out from underneath them both; he's the first person she's found coherent enough (not to mention human enough) to actually talk to her. And between the shadows that have been haunting her— skittering just beyond the focus of her vision— and the obvious distortion of their surroundings, maybe it isn't just him that's slipping under the current of this place.
"It's not important." Is what she settles on, holstering her gun and chancing a few steps towards him without hesitation. "Ni modo, amigo. You're not hurt, are you?"
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Confronting the disconnect between what they're seeing might be pulling the rug out from underneath them both; he's the first person she's found coherent enough (not to mention human enough) to actually talk to her. And between the shadows that have been haunting her— skittering just beyond the focus of her vision— and the obvious distortion of their surroundings, maybe it isn't just him that's slipping under the current of this place.
"It's not important." Is what she settles on, holstering her gun and chancing a few steps towards him without hesitation. "Ni modo, amigo. You're not hurt, are you?"