[He's hardly had time to gather his wits, let alone learn anything, and so it pains him not at all to answer honestly:]
I don't know.
[The disorientation is passing. (Adaptable as ever.) He doesn't seem in need of a hand up, and still his hand remains where it is, hanging patiently, expecting one of those fists to open to him soon enough. The too-short sleeve pulls a little further past the knob of his wrist as he opens his elbow just a little more.]
no subject
I don't know.
[The disorientation is passing. (Adaptable as ever.) He doesn't seem in need of a hand up, and still his hand remains where it is, hanging patiently, expecting one of those fists to open to him soon enough. The too-short sleeve pulls a little further past the knob of his wrist as he opens his elbow just a little more.]
Please, Alina.