“...it’s- it’s not half as bad as it looks.”

(It looks very bad so this is probably not as reassuring as he intends.)

[There’s a distressed hissing noise coming from...somewhere, from him, he realizes. Not from his mouth, clearly. From his...lower body? He holds his breath for a moment, it stops. He exhales, it starts again, fainter...]

[He looks down, runs his palm over his side and feels it, faint puffs of air, like he’s a machine with vents. Spiracles. The hissing fades off as he calms down, and begins to unfurl from the tight spiral he wrapped himself in.]

“My lungs now occupy my lower body.” [He takes note of this with a soft dry voice, and it’s hard to tell if it’s a private observation or is also meant for Abigail’s benefit by way of explanation. Grounding himself, he turns his attention back to her with a thin, shaky smile.]

“The pain stopped some time ago, it’s just all rather disorienting…” [He gestures with a casual wave of his hand and trails off. Mouse is squinting at him nervously.]

“I’ll just tiddy myself up a bit and put the kettle on, half a moment…”