Spatial tears are evidently fully capable of hydrogelizing, which is both expedient and appropriate given the situation Seth has unwittingly placed them both in. Nick backs away from the man as he recovers, hands clenching and unclenching with an arrhythmic, frenetic energy he seems unable to dissociate himself from.

"If you fucking pass out," he clarifies, shooting the man a glare from beneath lowered brows, "that will go significant lengths to make the current situation unworkable from a biomedical standpoint."

He crosses the gap between them in a brusque step, eyes raking the dark ridges of the burn and the - the points where the skin appears to have melted or singed beyond recognition unless he is, he is very much -

Nick swallows, closes his eyes, and breathes through his nose.

In retrospect, this is not one of his more well-reasoned ideas. The smell of burned skin is, as he is well aware, beyond fucking unbearable.

He opens his eyes. It's not so terrible.

"I'm not that sort of doctor," he says, utterly composed.