[He'll be there a while. Ten, twenty minutes... maybe half an hour of sitting and ignoring the cold. His cigarette has long since expired when the man finally shifts himself back to a straightened position, lolling his head back to stare at the sky.
There's another healthy pause, and then he slowly stretches to his feet. Or tries to. The motion is made all the more difficult when the world spins on him, and he stumbles a spell before righting himself.]
[Action]
There's another healthy pause, and then he slowly stretches to his feet. Or tries to. The motion is made all the more difficult when the world spins on him, and he stumbles a spell before righting himself.]