Escape hadn't even been conscious; the desire for it - the need for it - had been at the back of Gabe's mind for so long that the moment William's grip eased, he'd been moving before he'd even thought about it.
Even with his back to the wall, it was still making his fingers twitch from not having gone nearly far enough, nor found an end point defensible enough. Gabe closed his eyes (and his ears) on the chaos, took a deep shaky breath, and got his brain back online.
When he opened his eyes, Bryar was right there, talking... talking about not letting him go. One problem at a time. Gabe lifted a hand, but didn't actually bat him away, just muttered, "The ankle first, man," because mobility was good, but also that was the worst of it, and fiddly and complicated. "The rest I can handle but--"
He stopped dead at the sound of William's voice. William's normal, natural voice, sounding just as frayed at the seams and tattered around the edges as Gabe had been feeling for the past hour, as he was feeling now, all of it swamping him on a wave of almost crippling relief. William was ok. Would be ok. Gabe could get out of here.
Gabe had to get out of here.
"Hey," he said, low but serious, and tangled a hand in the front of Bob's robe (leave his hands free, let him work, get this over with). "I can handle the rest alone." He paused, then added, "I need to handle the rest alone."