He slips down the tree several inches as his chest constricts with several more rasping coughs. The world's begun to spin lightly, and either that's the typical dizziness he gets from waking up like this or it's something worse, way worse, something like blood loss, and it takes him a minute to shear through the dull fog settled over him to peer up at the distant ring of another voice, blinking hard.

That's not Jay. He recoils without having any real strength to do so, shrinking against the trunk, one hand wrapped around his middle with the other clinging desperately to the rough bark to keep himself semi-upright. His tongue feels too thick, his brain too sluggish to verbalize his rising, panicked no. All he can manage is a fervent backwards scramble, his head shaking frantically.