I watched him stroll away; then he was out of my field of vision, and I couldn't move my eyes to follow him. I was stuck there, staring at some turf and a flowering tree—the tree was slightly out of focus, and I couldn't even focus my eyes—and I started wondering if that was the last sight I was ever going to see. The elf had implied that he didn't want me dead, which meant he'd eventually drop the spell... but soon enough? How good was his estimate of the anoxiatolerance of a thirty-something erstwhile shadowrunner who's not in the best of fragging shape? By the time he dropped the spell and my cardiovascular system got back on the job, how much of my brain would have suffocated? Not a pleasant thought ...