Admittedly, Jerome hadn't even thought about asking Pam where exactly the first aid kit would be found, mostly because he wasn't used and willing to ask for help even if he obviously needed it. But even now it didn't seem like a good idea at all, given that he neither wanted to give Pam more infos about his condition nor necessarily wanted to lie to her about it. It was Pam, he couldn't imagine she would just plainly answer and be done with it. He had been willing to find this damn thing for himself; knowing the exact room, this couldn't be too hard.
It was hard shaking off the feeling of not being allowed to openly display any kind of inability, because that had been the iron norm for decades now. Being strong for his wife. Being strong for his kids. Neither of them were here, and still, it felt like an unavoidable rule he had to live up to to prove himself that he was at least worth something. Breaking through the defensive barrier around his heart had happened kind of naturally in terms of befriending someone, but opening himself up in a way that would allow others to cater to him was not happening, leading to his actions seeming to be nonsensical, which they probably were. The fact that within his first three days at this place, he hadn't been able to suppress his feelings of desperation at all, had only hardened the resolution to fucking pull himself together in front of others again, and to not let anyone enter his space of independency. He wanted nobody there.
"The kitchen is not thatbig.", he replied with a rather pragmatic tone, something ingrained deeply into his teacher personality as children had been a rather large amount of his conversation partners, and often needed to be reminded friendly, but emphaticly, at certain things. It was also the tone he used when trying to deal with angry parents while trying to stay calm and reasonable, and still not budging from his point of view. Situations like these kind of resembled his efforts to not snap inside Zenith, which was probably why he rather shifted to his job-related attitude than snapping outright. With colleagues and parents, there had been an incentive to stay calm even when he fumed internally, and here, the incentive existed, too.
Still, he felt more uncomfortable as Felix crossed the invisible lines that were ridiculously easy to cross when dealing with him, making his mind defensive on the spot.
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, silently sighing at his aching head as he rubbed it shortly, making an effort not to snap. Outside of Zenith and outside of school, he only ever had cared after the snapping that it had been unneeded, and he certainly didn’t want to start an infamous streak of being overly irritable now.
At least, it didn't seem like he needed to throw up, as his stomach calmed surprisingly a little down. His internal fight of suppressing the anger and not letting on to it as he didn’t want to inconvenience the guy who had been helping him evoked another anger directed at himself for even feeling angry in the first place, and during a short moment of turning his back to Felix, making sure he wouldn't notice as conveniently, he had to turn around to reach the kettle, he released an angry gaze carrying his split mind, while his hands fumbled around with the kettle, managing himself better than he had expected, luckily. They were still trembling, but it was okay.
"There are not that many places where it could be here after all.”, he proceeded, turning around again after fighting the gaze away, looking at Felix with softened, but tired eyes. “I'm sure I can find it just fine. People have probably enough to do with their own shit today after yesterday. ... Want a tea, too? I owe you." He managed a faint smile. No matter how uncomfortable he felt, no matter how defensive his mind got when confronted with unwanted help, he still felt grateful.
It was easier now to formulate sentences, and it was easier to hold himself straight. This was probably also kind of a placebo effect, too, as he, without the dizziness and blurry vision, was determined now to get his stuff done, telling himself that it really wasn't that bad anymore.