"Of course I can make it," he grouses. Though, when he goes to stand up, he stumbles and has to brace himself against the wall. "Shit. I can. I may need some help." Then he just has to laugh through the pain, because needing help seems like an understatement at this point.

He stands, bent over, his hand still propped against the wall. He laughs until he starts coughing, then looks across at her. He knows he's deteriorating fast, losing all of his Grace, but he needs to keep going. "How close by?"