The rapid flow of the memory is a curious experience. Paul's cognition slips into an automatic receptive blankness, imprinting the things that occur too fast for him to understand them in the moment on a register of information he will be able to return to later, but even then, things elude him in their rapidity.

He was mid-bending down to say hello back to Ruby and Yang when it happens. On the other side of it, he blinks at Qrow all of the once, finding himself sitting next to him without a clear sense of how he wound up there.

The sandwich is wordlessly accepted, but not yet eaten. Paul holds it in one hand and half-closes his eyes, flicking back through the images and sounds he caught on the way like pages of a book. He puts together an impression. He nods, eyes sliding back open, and refocuses on the ostensible now.

"Does it get better for them?" He asks, quietly, for the sake of the little girl sleeping on Qrow's lap.