[He's had the time to run through it in his mind. To process, so much as he was willing. To know what he'd say when asked. Stories upon stories, made up of near-truths.
He tilts the glass between his hands, watching as the liquid tilts and settles. There's some distance in his tone, mostly intentional—it only makes sense he'd have to separate himself from the facts of the matter.]
He was shot.
[Altius only pauses briefly before he lifts his drink and empties half of what remains. After he returns it to the counter, his words come out with just barely more force.]
It was late. We were all but alone. ... I awoke here shortly after.
no subject
He tilts the glass between his hands, watching as the liquid tilts and settles. There's some distance in his tone, mostly intentional—it only makes sense he'd have to separate himself from the facts of the matter.]
He was shot.
[Altius only pauses briefly before he lifts his drink and empties half of what remains. After he returns it to the counter, his words come out with just barely more force.]
It was late. We were all but alone. ... I awoke here shortly after.