[ He hears a noise, waits--and the quiet between them confuses Robby, but is easily brushed aside. A sore throat, too much drinking; maybe the man's going to be sick, and getting up immediately isn't a good thing, or is it? But then Mister LaRusso's distracted, and he says while he's looking-- ] I have the keys to my place. We can go there.
[ If keys are what Mister LaRusso's looking for. It's where his mind goes, until the phone is pulled out; and he hates the sight of it, similar to his own--the phone they all have, showing that they're stuck here. Robby chews on his bottom lip as he only half-sees what the man is doing.
He hears, instead. When his name comes out, in a voice he isn't expecting; a part of him wants to look around, but Robby knows where it comes from, brows stitching together, puzzled, as he stares at the phone. The noise that follows. ]
Mister LaRusso... [ He starts slowly, the fear of the area around them cooling to the new uncertainty before him. The urge to get Mister LaRusso to his feet, the worry of their own history. ] ...What happened? Did...someone do something to you?
[ His brain is clicking, in a way that doesn't feel right. The noise the man made before he grabbed the phone, using it that way, the state of him right now. He's looking at him, a possibility he doesn't want to believe coming to mind: did someone hurt Mister LaRusso? Here? Do something to his throat?
It should spring back his desire. It will. For now, the mere thought of such a thing--that anyone would come for Mister LaRusso like this-- is-- it's nothing he's considered before. ]
no subject
[ If keys are what Mister LaRusso's looking for. It's where his mind goes, until the phone is pulled out; and he hates the sight of it, similar to his own--the phone they all have, showing that they're stuck here. Robby chews on his bottom lip as he only half-sees what the man is doing.
He hears, instead. When his name comes out, in a voice he isn't expecting; a part of him wants to look around, but Robby knows where it comes from, brows stitching together, puzzled, as he stares at the phone. The noise that follows. ]
Mister LaRusso... [ He starts slowly, the fear of the area around them cooling to the new uncertainty before him. The urge to get Mister LaRusso to his feet, the worry of their own history. ] ...What happened? Did...someone do something to you?
[ His brain is clicking, in a way that doesn't feel right. The noise the man made before he grabbed the phone, using it that way, the state of him right now. He's looking at him, a possibility he doesn't want to believe coming to mind: did someone hurt Mister LaRusso? Here? Do something to his throat?
It should spring back his desire. It will. For now, the mere thought of such a thing--that anyone would come for Mister LaRusso like this-- is-- it's nothing he's considered before. ]