While Jericho is trying to start the car, he fumbles his way to the front passenger side door, glad it doesn't take much effort to pull it open. His knees threaten to give again, dragging himself into the seat and promptly shutting the door so be can lean against it. He's fighting hard not to close his eyes and sleep, rolling his face away from the window and glancing at the sticky red print that his cheek leaves behind before turning his attention to Jericho. Egil thinks about reaching out for him, maybe pushing some of his hair out of the way so he can get a better look at him, but he grimaces instead, breath stuttering. ] I'm not going to throw up. [ He repeats it with a bit more resolve this time, pressing his palms against his forehead to stop whatever headache is threatening to settle in from the blood loss and the pain in his shoulder. ] Just go.
[ Because whatever the case, he'll pass out long before he's actually sick, and there needs to be a lot more space between them and where they are now. Besides, if he decided he needed to, hed just roll the window down and do it that way; there's already too many smells in this cramped space that Egil's sure Jericho isn't having a good time with anyway. After a moment or two, he slips a little lower in his seat and finally reaches out to rest his hand on whatever part of Jericho he can touch, needing the solidity of his presence to keep him from going crazy. Maybe that panic is finally starting to hit him. ] Don't let me pass out with all this blood on me.
no subject
While Jericho is trying to start the car, he fumbles his way to the front passenger side door, glad it doesn't take much effort to pull it open. His knees threaten to give again, dragging himself into the seat and promptly shutting the door so be can lean against it. He's fighting hard not to close his eyes and sleep, rolling his face away from the window and glancing at the sticky red print that his cheek leaves behind before turning his attention to Jericho. Egil thinks about reaching out for him, maybe pushing some of his hair out of the way so he can get a better look at him, but he grimaces instead, breath stuttering. ] I'm not going to throw up. [ He repeats it with a bit more resolve this time, pressing his palms against his forehead to stop whatever headache is threatening to settle in from the blood loss and the pain in his shoulder. ] Just go.
[ Because whatever the case, he'll pass out long before he's actually sick, and there needs to be a lot more space between them and where they are now. Besides, if he decided he needed to, hed just roll the window down and do it that way; there's already too many smells in this cramped space that Egil's sure Jericho isn't having a good time with anyway. After a moment or two, he slips a little lower in his seat and finally reaches out to rest his hand on whatever part of Jericho he can touch, needing the solidity of his presence to keep him from going crazy. Maybe that panic is finally starting to hit him. ] Don't let me pass out with all this blood on me.