It was almost comforting in that moment of pain and madness to have Susan (of course he remembered her name) clinging like a child to his leg, her warm body pressed up against his. For a moment he could vividly recall Femke... Though they looked nothing alike, Oscar didn't need much of a comparison to remember his late (VERY late, more than 70 years dead) wife. Then things got crazy. They must have still been going terribly fast when tree branches began to tear the cabin apart, and the wind began to scream through the jagged metal. One moment Susan was there... And the next, she wasn't. If it wasn't so loud, he might have heard her seatbelt rip out of the chair and hear her screaming, but he couldn't even hear himself screaming. Not over the sound of chaos. God... He could have reached down and grabbed her hand... Anything. If she died, Oscar couldn't help but feel like it was his fault.<br/><br/>He clutched his head tightly, just waiting for sanity to resume control of his surroundings. He still had his head bundled between his arms when he heard Jane... Or Janet, yes, this was definitely Janet, exclaim wildly. Do it again? He slowly lowered his arms to his lap, and might have shot her a venomous look if his eyes weren't immediately drawn to the crumpled form on the ground in front of him. Susan must have rammed face-first into the seat in front of her. He could tell by the awkward angle of her head that her neck had snapped clean on impact, and she must have died quickly. It was a small solace, Oscar thought bitterly as he ripped the seatbelt off of him, feeling frustrated over the needless loss of life. Oscar carefully tried to stand in the off-kilter cabin, but had to grip at the seat in front of him to prevent himself from collapsing. So... Dizzy.<br/><br/>"Woah," he said. "Stirred or shaken..." He said cryptically, perhaps referring to Janet talking about her guts. Finally he slumped back down into his chair and took a few deep breaths. "How's Welles? What about the pilots? Everyone else? I... She's dead," he said. It was a simple statement in a neutral tone, but it betrayed a little of his exasperation. He finally slumped out of his chair and knelt beside her, putting a finger to her neck. Yep. She was still warm, but the pulse had fled her, and soon, the body heat generated by her core would flee as well. Again Oscar tried to stand, and this time he was feeling a little less... Stirred. "Where are we, I wonder. Still in South America?"