Pat continued to stumble forward. It seemed every time he was about to recover his mind another yell or gunshot would bring him back to square one, the gash in his brain being sewed shut only to be immediately pulled open again. Through blurred vision Pat could make out the figure of a man with a gun and some sort of deep primal instinct drove Pat towards him. He was traveling way to slowly to have any sort of element of surprise under normal circumstances. However this man was much more focused on Ester and her pipe than the old man stumbling towards him.

It was meant to be a push, but ended up as Pat just leaning on the man with both hands. As soon as Pat made contact, the man instinctively leapt backwards with a sharp cry of pain, lowering his while clutching and shaking his head with the other. With nothing to lean on, Pat fell forward, landing on his hands an knees. With his instincts now satisfied, Pat stayed in that position, eyes staring unfocused at the ground, waiting for things to quiet down.