[ The paparazzi have backed right the fuck away, at least. They're still snapping photos, though, of the commotion now happening. Of Jesse standing there, staring at the bent, toppled over streetlamp in stunned dismay. Of passers by scrambling for safety with shouts of fright. Of the streetlamp itself, lying diagonal across the road, sparks spitting out from the torn electrical wires exposed in the torn gash of metal where Jesse had punched the pole. Jesse numbly looks down at his fist, notices the bruise that's rapidly melting away into nothingness on his knuckles. The world comes slowly back into the focus, the white noise dimming to allow the sounds of the street all around him to flood back into the present. He looks around him, bewildered, like he'd forgotten altogether that he was even standing here. His pack of fresh pack of smokes is crumpled and crushed in his other hand. And god, he realises: God, he's exhausted.
His gaze landing on the girl with her foot trapped under the pole is what forces all of Jesse's senses to snap back to reality. Eyes widening, he lurches forward, gasping in horror, and he crouches down to try and pry the pole off her foot with trembling hands. He's his usual weak self, if not far weaker right now, so he lets out a strain and a grunt and as desperate noise of panic. ]
Shit. Shit. I'm— [ Eyes landing on the girl. ] Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't— [ He swings a wild glance around him, and he shouts furiously at the assholes still snapping away with their cameras: ] Fucking do something insteada just standing there, you fucks!
[ Which... causes the lights all around him to flicker and dim again. Energy leaking into him again. And he realises with perplexed relief that somehow, somehow, the next tug on the streetlamp on the girl's foot is easy, like he's simply lifting a piece of foam?? Well, fuck, he doesn't question it right in that moment; he launches the pole off her, sending it clanking with deafening resonation onto the road, before he collapses in exhaustion as the lights all around them flicker back on. ]
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His gaze landing on the girl with her foot trapped under the pole is what forces all of Jesse's senses to snap back to reality. Eyes widening, he lurches forward, gasping in horror, and he crouches down to try and pry the pole off her foot with trembling hands. He's his usual weak self, if not far weaker right now, so he lets out a strain and a grunt and as desperate noise of panic. ]
Shit. Shit. I'm— [ Eyes landing on the girl. ] Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't— [ He swings a wild glance around him, and he shouts furiously at the assholes still snapping away with their cameras: ] Fucking do something insteada just standing there, you fucks!
[ Which... causes the lights all around him to flicker and dim again. Energy leaking into him again. And he realises with perplexed relief that somehow, somehow, the next tug on the streetlamp on the girl's foot is easy, like he's simply lifting a piece of foam?? Well, fuck, he doesn't question it right in that moment; he launches the pole off her, sending it clanking with deafening resonation onto the road, before he collapses in exhaustion as the lights all around them flicker back on. ]