[His breath quickens in his chest as his hand moves to splay on his chest. The pain, the feeling of helplessness, its cold from the air, cold from death...]
[Mandricardo closes his eyes for a moment, grimacing.]
Mollymauk... [And he turns to him, opening his eyes, concerned.] What...what was that?
[Well, Mandricardo has probably scoped Molly's chest enough to notice the wound on his chest that, at a glance, would most definitely match what happened in that little horror show.
Molly's doing a similar gesture, before going to pull his coat tighter over his chest.]
[Begins Mandricardo - his first instinct is to reassure, to try to pull them both out of this emotional strife they just went through - but as it happens, that memory triggers another memory, and Mandricardo winces harshly.]
[Sometimes a vicious death reminds you of your own vicious death.]
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[His breath quickens in his chest as his hand moves to splay on his chest. The pain, the feeling of helplessness, its cold from the air, cold from death...]
[Mandricardo closes his eyes for a moment, grimacing.]
Mollymauk... [And he turns to him, opening his eyes, concerned.] What...what was that?
[...]
Did you...die?
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Molly's doing a similar gesture, before going to pull his coat tighter over his chest.]
Ah. Fuck.
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[Begins Mandricardo - his first instinct is to reassure, to try to pull them both out of this emotional strife they just went through - but as it happens, that memory triggers another memory, and Mandricardo winces harshly.]
[Sometimes a vicious death reminds you of your own vicious death.]
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He seems kind of shaken by just ... two violent deaths in a row, taking a second to try and collect himself.]
Fuck.
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[After all of that...Mandricardo just wants to shrivel up in a hole somewhere. That's...a lot of pain. One right after the other.]
[He mutters:]
Yeah. Fuck is right.