Gold could do little but allow himself to be led away, though the hand that grabbed at Hopper was nearly as tight as the one he had on his cane. Everything was still moving, enough that if he opened his eyes for too long at all, he'd feel his stomach start to turn. (He was suddenly very aware and very grateful that he hadn't eaten in the last day.) The street lights seemed a little too bright, and for the moment at least, the strangeness of the vertigo stole enough of his attention to stop any further barking or grousing.

The dog's leash was shifted into the hand on his cane, as the other one gave him something to brace himself on and block out the light from the cafe. His forehead had begun to bead with sweat.