The tremendous manifested environment is sorely interfering with Rush's personal ability to navigate like the grossly overproportioned fuck it is. He grits his teeth on an asymmetrical plane as they edge along, toward the sufficiently secluded recess. One, one zero, one one, each step is absolute fucking agony on physiology that is overtaxed, overstimulated, but this is understood, perpetual, recognized. It is how Rush operates. On an edge. On an asymptote askew, the nearing of a state of absolute exhaustion without touching it.

Reaching the alcove is only a relief in the manner that he can plant his free hand on the surface for relative support.

"Better?" he hisses out. Asadi does not seem better from his current perspective but it's possible his perception is flawed on several accounts. 'Better' is a point on an ever-changing fucking scale on which both of them are positioned fairly low even when contextually aligned to their former states of being. 'Better' also seems like the necessary thing to say as a stabilizing utterance. Possibly.