[ He's pliable under Mister LaRusso's touch, hand going where the man wants it, and the sound of his voice jolts something in Robby's chest. His heart? Maybe that, trying to lodge itself in his throat with how on edge he feels, erratic. ] Mister LaRusso, [ he answers to his name like a hope, and when Mister LaRusso asks how he is, he's nodding as vehemently as he can. ]

I'm fine, 'm okay. [ Nevermind how he sounds assuring it, breathy, like he's stringing the words together while under the influence. But Mister LaRusso isn't sounding much better, so who is anyone in this room to judge? Robby clasps the handing holding his with his other one, his shoulders slowly heaving and falling to his breathing. ]

Mob--'s okay. Got him back... we...I should've stopped him, 'Russo. Told him I would--didn't want him to die. I said it'd be okay-- I said he'd count on me, but he's Kenny all over again. Shouldn't have left him there, Mister LaRusso...

[ It's hot, it's hard to focus. Mister LaRusso's hand is refreshing against the skin of his hands, but it does nothing to the heat hovering around his eyes, making it dizzying. Thoughts that blur in his head, the ones he can barely grasp--he let Mob down, didn't he? He said he'd help, now look at them. Look at everyone.

Look at Mister LaRusso. Is he ali-- is he going to be okay? ]

LaRusso...