Deadlock's gotten used to running a mild case of sickishness. It only adds to his typical cheery demeanor. But even that stirred, like old silt, as he touched the jet, soothing himself almost against his will.

But there's a skirl of concern, because yeah. Deadlock's not good at this. And if he frags up, Wing could be sent home. And he'd be alone. And Wing would be gone. And then they'd never...

it would just suck, all right?

"What....what do you want me to do?" He sounds a little lost, honestly, shifting awkwardly on his feet.