It seems like whatever's going on around here is contagious. And adding some really really... not good complications. Case in point: the tan and silver Spartan stumbling out of that portal over there. It's not the one he usually uses, and he hasn't PINpointed in. He's struggling to yank his helmet off at the moment. Okay, now why did he just throw
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There is a green blur rocketing its way in your direction. While Johnny might not be too sure about that armour, he's sure about the face, and sure about the fact that both the lack of Dee and being shot in the general heart area is not good. He's drawing conclusions based on his own world, and they feature more X's than they should.
"He's not, he hasn't gotten back? I thought he would..." he stammers, panicked, trying to pull things together and remember where the hell he put those potions.
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"Holy fuck, Reggie shot me." He looks back up at Johnny, panicked. "W-wait wait, you know Dee? Have you seen him here? I-I woke up and he was gone and so was Allsion and my chest hurt and..." Better get a potion soon, or he's liable to pass out.
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"...Oh. Oh no, the protocol." His face slides another notch down towards absolute white. "H-he was supposed to be right there. But I woke up and everyone was gone and my chest hurts."
He looks down at the bullet holes and winces. "So much for helping Allison find that stupid AI."
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"Dunno where your friend is," he starts, accent out of the Midwest US of A, "but you look like you've seen better days."
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That is a very snazzy hat. And a weird ensemble. York kind of gapes for a moment before shaking his head. "Is there a costume party or something going on?"
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"Not so much a costume party as a crossroads between time and space. I'm from 1933, Earth." He raises his eyebrows and looks York over some more. "And you definitely ain't."
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"Earth, yeah. But the 1930's? That's, like, the distant past. Waaaay in the past." York's gotta be in the way future right now. Or whatever millenium that his world takes place in. It's post-Halo 3, that's for sure.
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"Dude, you look like shit," he observes, not unkindly. "Dee's gone? maybe he just stepped out for while - everyone needs some fresh air once in a while..."
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"I-I woke up and everyone was gone and my chest hurt." He points at the holes in his armor. "You don't wanna see what it looks like under there," he adds. "Either A-Allison took Dee with her or the armor... deleted him."
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"Hey, I'm no medic - so I'd better qualified to make a diagnosis, anyway - but I figure we can rule out my first guess that it's Asian Bird Flu... unless it was a very persistent bird." He points at the bullet holes. "You should probably get that checked out - by a real doctor, I mean."
Listening to the last part, he replies, "What after she shot you?" He holds up a hand to forestall the inevitable protest. "C'mon, it's Tex. But anyways... that'd only happen if you were probably going to die, right? I mean, isn't that why O'Malley jumped ship from Tex the first time?" Tucker making a connection between an old plot point and a more recent one?
...That'll never happen again, we promise.
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"What? No, Tex didn't shoot me. Reggie- Wyoming did." He scowls darkly at the memory. "Her gun jammed, we were scattering, and then he shot me. Dee knocked me out and when I came to..." The rest, he already said eariler. Bad day, huh?
"Uhm... Tucker, is it possible for a dead man to come here?"
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