Jaeger is going to have some new scars when this is done, judging by the shreds of skin only barely hanging on to his hands. The bleeding is slow and sluggish, at least, at least partly absorbed by his gloves and sleeves.

"Away from the horrible plant-things" is never a bad direction to take, though. If nothing else, it minimizes the chances of Eric getting bitten again. Because Jaeger is in no position to help, though he lets himself be steered almost docilely. As long as the little horror-creature is tucked safely in his hands, he's quiet.

"Great," he says vaguely in acknowledgment. There's still a brittle, flinchy air to his posture, doing his best to curl in on himself, but he's listening, at least, registering some of what's going on outside the horrible little bubble that his new companion has created.

Maybe Eric can't see. Jaeger hopes that's the truth. How he's been ruined with such a delicate and careful hand, how he's only barely holding together. He shouldn't be here, none of them should be here, but most of all Eric. Because he doesn't want the younger man to see.

"You should probably go."