Rashad gives a full-body tremble and shies away from her, crossing his arms defensively over his belly as he ducks his head and makes himself generally just a little bit smaller. "Dooooon't," he protests, upset by the yelling, upset by the fresh wave of horror filling the air (which he does not eat, thank you), upset by the way his clothes are slightly uncomfortable and the room is a little too warm and he's tired and he wants things and he's not sure what things he wants --

He doesn't even realize he's wilting to the floor until he's already there, laying on the floor and moaning to himself.