[Eiffel's in no position to try and stop him. Still desperately trying to smooth out his breathing, with the panic only making his throat tighter again and nearly forcing fresh coughs out, asthmatic gasps off the tail end of a smoker's coughing fit and a sore throat as well.
When words do manage to make it between the pain and the breathlessness, they're monosyllabic at best, and the fear is still clear in his tremulous words.]
Sure. Y-yeah. Let's... t'morr'w. Okay. Hoooookay. [He takes a long breath and a disgustingly wet sniff.] Try... t'take. Iteezy. Okay...?
no subject
When words do manage to make it between the pain and the breathlessness, they're monosyllabic at best, and the fear is still clear in his tremulous words.]
Sure. Y-yeah. Let's... t'morr'w. Okay. Hoooookay. [He takes a long breath and a disgustingly wet sniff.] Try... t'take. Iteezy. Okay...?