Again, there's something settling about being manhandled but not hurt: hands fussing at him and hands supporting him and hands of exhaustion gently but insistently pulling him backwards. John's voice rumbling around him and Arthur's voice chattering to them both and if the first one makes him shake harder now that he's starting to float in earnest again, it's hard to even tell when his insides still feel like a block of ice despite the burning and sweat on his skin.

He sees himself beside himself, shouting mutely at himself to stay awake, but sadly that guy doesn't always call the shots.

He says something like "chickens take the cold well," more specifically chiiiins tay the coh weh, eyes closed, head sunk, breathing laboured, going, going.