♞ （ Ⅰ. ）
[ needlessly to say, napoleon is in a panic when he wakes up. making it even more clear by managing to fall completely out of bed with a hard thud, but the dull pain in his elbow is nothing compared to the shock he remembers a moment ago looking up into the face that was so much like his own. but a look around tells him that person isn't here, no one is here... but there's something terribly familiar about all this.
it's a second more to realize what's amiss with this situation, and for him to get onto his feet and rush out of the room and into the hall. quickly finding the nearest picture and taking it into his hands. ]
No way...
（ voice. ）
Elizabeth, Florence, Marie, Freud, Hitler. . . [ a beat. ] Joan? Are you guys still here?
（ action. ）
[ clearly a minute after making that call, napoleon's non-existent level of patience reaches its breaking point and he takes off from the house still in the pajamas he woke up in. although he had managed to remember shoes, he's clearly surprised by the snow on the ground. so much so, you might catch him as he slips on the ground.
he might even slip right into you. ]