[ It is not polite to stare. Flynn knows this—he knows this! it's a fact of life, like that water is wet and that it's better for you to get up with the sun no matter how many people complain about that fact—and yet there he is, slowing from his morning jog to a complete halt to stare wide-eyed at the man— at the horse— at the horse-and-man jumble?—currently collapsed in front of the diner.
(Strange, still, to see the diner whole and hale and full of food, like it had never fallen to heartbreaking pieces. Flynn's gaze flicks to it every few seconds, like he expects it to fall away again).
He hasn't made any more sense of the jumble of limbs when said jumble starts to talk, and given that he can't exactly ask excuse me sir are you trapped on top of a horse, do you need help finding your legs he says, a little mystified, ]
You really shouldn't— um, it's not safe to... sleep there. The sun is only going to get worse. You'll burn.
2, morning
(Strange, still, to see the diner whole and hale and full of food, like it had never fallen to heartbreaking pieces. Flynn's gaze flicks to it every few seconds, like he expects it to fall away again).
He hasn't made any more sense of the jumble of limbs when said jumble starts to talk, and given that he can't exactly ask excuse me sir are you trapped on top of a horse, do you need help finding your legs he says, a little mystified, ]
You really shouldn't— um, it's not safe to... sleep there. The sun is only going to get worse. You'll burn.