The tail end of Nic's tirade against the man with the knife petered off as he was teleported. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling a little nauseous and disoriented as he rematerialized with the others, his right arm hanging limp from his dislocated shoulder. Struggling to keep his stomach and its contents where they belonged, he waited long enough to see that Quinn and the others were there as well before sinking to his knees, left arm tight across his stomach as he bent over. "Gunna be sick..." he muttered to himself, taking deep breaths and trying to stay in control. "'S everybody okay?" he asked weakly, probably not even audible in the chaos that surrounded them. God, all he wanted was a bed and a bucket. And maybe a hug, but he shoved that thought to the side for now. No time for self-pity... He didn't want anyone seeing him like that.