The sound of Johnny yelling alerts him to the fact that the other man may well be in danger or injured or dying. How dreadfully inconvenient. Rush skids to a halt out of instinct, but further inspection reveals that Johnny is not in actual fact in danger or injured or dying, but merely tired. He prepares himself to comment on the blinding idiocy of stopping when they are so obviously being chased but his senses finally catch up to his brain and indicate that he is also, infuriatingly, tired on the account that he is having trouble breathing.

He is fine. This is fine.

Nathaira sniffs at the rabbit, it - he cannot recall its name and it is unimportant. Nathaira seems curious at it rather than annoyed as he is, which is just further proof that she cannot possibly be the manifestation of his soul or whatever similar nonsense, because if this were the case she would be telling the rabbit to fuck off and mind its own business.

Johnny has to ask if Rush is fine as well, which earns him a glower.

"I am -" He has to breathe. He has to breathe. And clutch at the stitch in his side. And breathe. And grind his other hand at his eyes, the base of his palm driving into one eyeball with the intent of triggering a pain reflex. He is fine.

"I am fine," he says, entirely unconvincingly, breathless and agitated and not panicking in the slightest.