[ It's said absently, as if off in deep thought, Desmond waving a hand without even really facing Altaïr at first. And Desmond had been deep in thought, except... like an itch, somewhere in the back of his mind.
An itch that turned into the familiar summer heat of Syria, the sound of the market, the smell of spices, and-- back again, to Cadens. A headache was starting to form.
Desmond blinks when he finally faces Altaïr, opens his mouth, closes it. Hands come up to rub harshly into his eyes, as if the pressure would make his brain pull itself together. ]
Man, Lucy's right, I have got to start sleeping more...
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[ It's said absently, as if off in deep thought, Desmond waving a hand without even really facing Altaïr at first. And Desmond had been deep in thought, except... like an itch, somewhere in the back of his mind.
An itch that turned into the familiar summer heat of Syria, the sound of the market, the smell of spices, and-- back again, to Cadens. A headache was starting to form.
Desmond blinks when he finally faces Altaïr, opens his mouth, closes it. Hands come up to rub harshly into his eyes, as if the pressure would make his brain pull itself together. ]
Man, Lucy's right, I have got to start sleeping more...