"I have said," complicated order.

So the thing is that the sane thing to do is recover, even if it takes him an obvious, obvious amount of time; they have to already know he knows.  They're humoring him.  They're humoring him, but every minute they're humoring him is one they're not torturing him.  Actively.

But instead, since there is no more him to recover with, he staggers back away from the POS tablet, eyes darting around and clutching at the strap on his apron.

"Excuse me! May I get service!" calls the Quebecois guy to his nearest co-worker.

"I have - to go -" he hisses, and lurches for the door.

"Julien? It's not your break yet, you jerk!" calls the co-worker who has barely taken two steps toward his section of the counter.

The thing about the door is that it's really heavy, and Julien is not very - anything - right now.  But maybe he can open it if he kind of drapes himself onto it?  There's a crash bar; it can't be that hard to get out of here, can it?  - Or is he locked in; are they going to start disemboweling him right here on the floor of this Starbucks -

The door opens.

"Julien!" hollers his co-worker.

Okay, the street!  He's going to die out on the street and not on the floor of this fucking Starbucks.  He's going to be tortured for hours or days until they get bored with him and hook him up to different mind control, on the sidewalk outside this fucking Starbucks.  Here he is, on the sidewalk.  That's where he is.

People are definitely looking at him now, but of course this is independent of how he just burst madly out of a Starbucks and looks like he's about to collapse.

Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  There is so little him, there isn't any, but - if anyone comes near him he has to try and make a run for it.  In the opposite direction of them.

People are mostly going around him, but, like, it's a sidewalk.

Everyone's coming at him!!  He sprints for about two paces, then kind of stagger-runs for half a block, and then strategically crashes into a garbage can.  It's one of the metal ones, stable enough for him to lean and pant on.

"Sir! Sir are you all right?"

"Stay back!"

"Do you need an ambulance?"

"No!"

"Joe, what's going on -"

"Guy's collapsed on a trash can, see -"

"Well, call 911."

"Says he doesn't need it."

Julien tries to get his feet properly underneath him.  If he has to fight anyone he needs the most stable foundation he can muster.

"Do you have a ride coming or something?"

"You tell me, why don't you!"

"Joe, I think you should just call 911 and have done with it."

Joe pulls out his phone.

...........If Julien tries to move the best he's going to manage is to get one trash can over, where he will also collapse.  Better to keep his reserves up right here until something happens.

(Ugh.  Headache.  And the little puddle over there by the curb is looking so good right now.)

"Hey - there's this guy, I don't know him, he's just acting like - no -" He gives the intersection.