Overwhelmed by the mental images that are pulled back to the very front of his mind at him telling Gerome about them, Inigo immediately leans against Gerome when the other pulls him over. His hands move off his face, but mostly just so he can instead tightly cling to the fabric of Gerome's shirt, like he needs the other to keep him anchored to the here and now rather than the awful reality of that vision -- that memory, apparently. So vivid, as if it had happened to him personally.

Inigo isn't even sure if he likes the idea of it being a memory even better. Sure, it means there's no risk of that happening to him anytime soon, but that means that someone else on the train - or maybe on the island, who knows? - had that happened to them.

It was so awful. It had felt so, so awful..

He lets out a shakey breath, only managing to speak up in a tiny voice.

"You had..?"