[He gives a breathy, exhausted laugh, kind of half-wanting to make that into some crack about his physique instead of his health - 'I'm in shape, round is a shape', that whole thing - and then he gives up on it. He'd need to think to do that, and thinking's a little more than he can handle.]

What else am I going to do? Go try to throw up again? Lay down and think about where my life went wrong? No, fuck, I'd rather hit shit for a while.

[He's kind of slowly sliding down toward the floor and tries to straighten up just enough so he doesn't end up outright sitting, flinching a little when he puts his weight on the leg he'd been kicking with the most - stupid, but he hadn't exactly been thinking strategically at the time.]

Fuck, if I sit down I don't know if I'm gonna get back up. I just, I just need a minute, then we can uh, get back up and do the thing. Bust that door open. You good, though? You didn't like, pull a muscle anywhere or something?