He blinks, protracted and slow, and attempts to marshal his thoughts into what may be deemed an appropriate response between the heaviness of his own limbs, the stench of ozone, the hot trickle coating the back of his neck. His hands are thick and utterly nonresponsive so he must attempt movement in another respect and so he rotates his head on its spinal axis and when he does things move and there are no joints in the skull nor are their any parts of it that should be disconnected or untethered or floating in the softened mess of their own fluid deconstruction this is incorrect and impractical for a number of reasons.

The sensation of fingers around the darkened mat that is his hair is not altogether one he finds he can react to he is overly preoccupied with the grating and shifting of ordinarily solid bone and so he has no response to it nor does he have a rebuttal for the insistence of an optimal outcome the outcome has already proven to be staunchly not optimal and it will continue to be as he is not a terribly enthusiastic supporter of outcomes in which he is dead and this should be readily apparent for obvious reasons.

His jaw feels fused shut. Perhaps that is an ancillary effect. He should not concern himself with it unnecessarily.

Events have established a clear direction and it is not the preferred direction but he finds he has little choice in the matter and prolonging his own awareness is at this point a detriment not a benefit and so he surrenders to the direction things seem to be heading toward much like one would surrender to gravity that inevitable pull to the molten center of the earth they are so far away from.