Despite the lighter grip, Jean-Leon kept his hand on Rhett's shoulder, a reassuring 'pat pat' under the pale marks of temporary blood loss. The color flooded back into his hand, and he shook his head, pulling an 'it don't even matter' face, lips tugged down. "Nah, nevermind about me man, are you gonna be alright? I thought you were gonna knife me or spontaneously combust, or do a full Linda Blair." That cold, wild look he'd received was lingering in his mind. "Which would've been my bad for sure, I shouldn't have grabbed your shoulder, which I guess I'm still doing, so lemme just."
He was slow to pull his hand away, like he didn't want to disturb a spooked animal, and stretched it at his side absently. "Do you need some water, or a cold towel or something?" he asked, moving back to put a little space between them. "Is this a normal thing, do you have a post-freak out routine?"