Claude is listening to Sheila. Or, at least, he thinks he is. She's speaking, he hears the words, he responds - but whether or not he's really listening is questionable. He watches her move around, rallying the troops as only she can, falling to her knees and slapping the ground. Stepping up beside her, Claude falls, too. Watching Sheila, he
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He takes a step, not making any effort to conceal himself (he couldn't if he tried, but), and hesitates.
This is getting crazier by the minute.
*squee!*
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"What the hell is going on right now?"
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"I'm not really sure, to be honest. Only thin I can tell you --" he frowns, "is you're not hallucinating."
Most likely because I am.
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"What do you mean? We're on a big fucking boat. And this doesn't look the Hudson."
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"What's happening? Something's not right."
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Berger sighs. "Claude, remember what we said about going to Nam?"
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"Yeah, of course. What does that have to do with anything?"
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And it wasn't pretty, what with Sheila crying all the time and Berger pretty much being stoned out 24/7 in order to forget.
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He died. He feels a slight shiver make it's way through him, and he can't help but reach out to hug Berger. Although the hug is more like a cling - a reassurance to both of them. Because, Claude thinks, maybe he actually is dead and this is how he arrived in Heaven. But when he can hold Berger like this, he's sure he's alive.
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"Fuck, let's get high."
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"Yeah, she does." He gives Berger a squeeze.
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