Evan scratched his head. "Oh yeah," he said, thinking aloud. "I went up there for some air, maybe to get some inspiration for painting or something and next thing I knew..." he shook his head and looked down. He smoothed his non-IVed hand through his hair and tried to relax. The whole situation was only making his panic worse. The longer he was in here, the longer leadership was shorthanded. "Guess that's what I get for taking a break."
Of course Elliot didn't know what had happened. Even Evan didn't know what had happened, really, so he couldn't expect Elliot to. "Can't believe this happened," he murmured.
Blood pressure. "Huh," he thought aloud once more. A panic attack. It had been a long time since he'd had one of those. "You and everyone else." But while they were warning him, two seconds later they were telling him something that he needed to do better, or differently. "But it's not so easy to take breaks when you're in charge of so much." As for the last time he'd slept, he just shrugged. "I haven't been able to. I've tried," he lied, "but I haven't been able to."
He wrestled against his best friend's grip, glaring angrily up at him. "Well if everyone's so fucking worried about whether I live or die, maybe they should give me a two second break, or stop blaming me every time something goes wrong!" he seethed; this time a little of his anger was directed at Elliot. "I know shit's my fault. That's why I work so hard to fix it." He stopped fighting, rolled his eyes, then looked in the other direction.
Four hours. "Four hours?" he asked, his attention snapping back to Elliot. "N-no, I have to go. I have to put together a fire drill plan." There were hundreds of other things he had to do, but that was what he'd been doing before he'd had his apparent panic attack.