[ The familiarity of a hand ruffling his hair makes the gesture all the more unwanted and Reid curls in on himself a little further, hands still now on his bare chest. His nails are still biting into skin, but the initial shock is settling in and that's enough for him to realize a few important things. Like how he can't scratch them out of him.
Like how he's probably about to die. Slowly.
Quiet now, he focuses on drawing one raspy breath after another, mind reeling to find some solution but the sheer shock of the event makes it skitter, latching on to whatever it can that isn't the creeping, gnawing pain in his body. It slides off sticky percentages, survival statistics based on facts he doesn't even have, the average cubic inch of the human chest cavity—
A low, whining protest wind its way into those labored breaths as Tyki rolls him over, but aside from that there's not much of a protest to speak off. Too busy breathing, too busy clutching his ribcage, dark eyes cracked open to stare up at the noah, voice stretched thin like a rubber band ready to snap.]
I don't... bet... when I already know I'm going to lose.