[With Gregor moving off, Loki starts walking toward the stairs, hesitates, turns away, and effectively starts pacing again. But he does try to breathe. Really, he wishes that he could.]
I think... perhaps I will go to bed. And sleep. Though I can't sleep.
Shhh. [Gregor approaches quietly and passes Loki the water. At least it'll give him something to reach out and take, something to break this stream of panic. Something to clutch besides his hair. Also, the act of drinking will force him to take a quiet moment.]
Don't shush me. [Loki snaps, and then laughs, a faint edge of hysteria to the sound.] Words are all I have.
[He takes the glass, not because he wants it, but because it's an automatic reaction at this point. His hands shake so much that the water spills, but he doesn't notice. He stares down at it as if he's not entirely certain what to do with it.]
I... I don't feel good, Gregor. I... I... need to lay down.
[Gregor spots him, one hand in front of the glass.] It's not a feat, it's an eventuality. You're safe right now. Just take deep breaths until it passes.
Safety is an illusion. I'm never safe. [But he does try to focus on his breathing anyway, shoulders moving. He doesn't like the way his face feels numb, or his hands, and he wants it to stop.]
[Loki does as he's told, breathing with his mouth shut, shoulders hunched up toward his ears. He rocks back faintly back and forth in his seat, hands white-fingered on the glass of water.
But slowly, he gets his breathing back under control.]
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[He reaches in the general direction of Loki's shoulder, to beckon or to lead, whichever looks like it's going to be successful.]
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I would really... much rather stand.
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[But Loki does pause in his shaking, scrubbing his shaking hands together.]
I am breathing.
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I think... I think there is something... something wrong with me.
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[He moves off to fill a glass of water.]
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I think... perhaps I will go to bed. And sleep. Though I can't sleep.
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I can't. I can't. I can't. [He clutches at his hair.]
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[He takes the glass, not because he wants it, but because it's an automatic reaction at this point. His hands shake so much that the water spills, but he doesn't notice. He stares down at it as if he's not entirely certain what to do with it.]
I... I don't feel good, Gregor. I... I... need to lay down.
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I can't. Can't.
[He nearly drops the glass, clutches at it, then raises one hand to fumble at his lips.]
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But slowly, he gets his breathing back under control.]
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Now. Tell me what happened.
[It's not a request.]
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I think... I'd rather not.
[He rubs his hands slowly together.]
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What do you need?
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For the last few hours to have not occurred, if you can manage that.
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Don't tell anyone.
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