[ It's a good thing she does, because Jim's not sure he has the option not to collapse at the moment, the shakiness of relief hidden in the way he grips her back, sure and firm. Freed, from the murky influence, though it left him slightly breathless from the absence. Give him a minute to recover, it'll be fine.
Jim thunks on the metal, turning over to lean more on his left side - something's going on with his right. Muscle tightness, or maybe simply overextended; no sleep combined with brain-melting evil did a number on a guy. The joke does get a huff out of him, one that turns into an incredulous laugh, echoing Gwen's. The situation is so ridiculously awful he has to laugh, because if he doesn't - if he focuses too much on the way the gnawing sensation isn't gone completely, the presence of another mind clogged with cloying Gnosia still present pressing against his own, the conspicuous absence of the other half of their club unit -
He's not thinking about it. Do you see him not thinking about it?
The laughter trails off, sobering, and Jim's hand comes up to touch Gwen's where it steadies on his shoulder, squeezing gently - partially in solidarity, and partially as if to check that she's actually real. ] Are you okay? Did I - I didn't hurt you, did I?
[ Physically, he means, because that's about as much as they're prepared to handle with right now. Jim remembers every horrible thing that came out of his mouth, cutting deeper than any knife, and there's nothing he can say in the moment that will erase them. What he can do is damage control, and making sure that taser, or hell, the fucking nails he fired at her hadn't done any damage. ] What...happened?
no subject
Jim thunks on the metal, turning over to lean more on his left side - something's going on with his right. Muscle tightness, or maybe simply overextended; no sleep combined with brain-melting evil did a number on a guy. The joke does get a huff out of him, one that turns into an incredulous laugh, echoing Gwen's. The situation is so ridiculously awful he has to laugh, because if he doesn't - if he focuses too much on the way the gnawing sensation isn't gone completely, the presence of another mind clogged with cloying Gnosia still present pressing against his own, the conspicuous absence of the other half of their club unit -
He's not thinking about it. Do you see him not thinking about it?
The laughter trails off, sobering, and Jim's hand comes up to touch Gwen's where it steadies on his shoulder, squeezing gently - partially in solidarity, and partially as if to check that she's actually real. ] Are you okay? Did I - I didn't hurt you, did I?
[ Physically, he means, because that's about as much as they're prepared to handle with right now. Jim remembers every horrible thing that came out of his mouth, cutting deeper than any knife, and there's nothing he can say in the moment that will erase them. What he can do is damage control, and making sure that taser, or hell, the fucking nails he fired at her hadn't done any damage. ] What...happened?