Frank
He nods, his eyes wide, his nostrils flaring, a bead of sweat dripping from his receding hairline to his chin. "Yeah," he whispers, although it's more of a croak. "Yeah, sure. Not too tight. I can do that, sure." Being restrained and bossed around by a man with a gun. It's too much like the joint, too much like being back in prison. "Aw, ####, guys. Aw, ####, ####, ####!" And yet, as helpless as he is, as impotent and powerless, he can't help but feel as though he needs to do something about it, to take some sort of action. But thoughts like that in situations like theses are too often suicidal. But when the time comes for him to bond himself to his neighbor, he finds his arms like lead, and that he cannot move them. "Oh, Jesus," he moans. "Oh, #### me, I can't do it. I can't ####ing do it!" He sinks into his chair like a lump, shivering.
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Sanity Check (Helplessness): (1d100)[62]
Re: Where Matter Vanishes IC
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