When they'd tested the cane with a few slams, it held up, and so, they kept it. “Don't worry about it,” Jeff said. “We'll make it work. Just stick to the script, do the same routine you trained on, and we'll make all the adjustments you need.”
Alan was getting frustrated – in part with his friends being so slow to pick up on what he was putting down. In part due to having to do this stupid skit at all. In part due to having to deal with all this “manslaughter” bullshit.
“Seriously, though,” he pleaded, as the others suited up. “I fucked up.”
Steve smiled at him. “Yeah, yeah, you're still a stud, though.”
“No, really,” Alan said. “It's not okay. I'm not okay.”
“You will be,” Jeff said, with an air of responsibility. “Following steps always clears my head. You just gotta think of it like a Dance Dance Revolution stage,”
“No,” Alan insisted, “I killed-”
“You're gonna kill it out there, I promise,” Henry said. “I've seen you practice this. You've got it.”
Alan sighed.
Before him was at least fifteen years of the anime club, and they were all depending on him. Whatever he thought he might have done, did it matter at all against what he was supposed to do? What he was expected to do?