"How are you even alive!? This doesn't make any sense!" Alan put a hand to his head, his face contorting as the whites around his steel grey eyes reddened and watered. "I must be in a dream. Yeah, a nice dream for once, after busting my balls off repairing and wiring and taking care of the old man…"
"Calm down," said Aldrich. "Let's take this slow. What do you know about what happened to us?"
Aldrich gently put pressure down on Alan's shoulder, getting him to sit down. Alan slumped into his chair and took in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, took a few seconds, and then, when he opened them, his face was fine.
A tiny wet trail from a single half formed tear trickled slowly down his face, flowing fast from all the grease and oil caked on the skin.
"Sorry," said Alan. "Really, I'm sorry about that." He took the chunky bolter pistol on the table and stored it in a shelf. "I don't usually get like this…all in a wreck, all worked up for nothing."
