He wasn't so far gone yet that he didn't recognize his name, and this at least made Chris stop to take stock of the situation. Pale and dizzy, he could just make out the dim shape of his warden. As Rorschach moved closer Chris moved back in tandem, trying to keep up a good distance between the two. The last thing he wanted was to get trapped somewhere and Rorschach was unpredictable enough to warrant alarm...heightened by sparks of paranoia coming off him in waves.

"What?" He demanded, voice cracking just a little from how on edge and cranky he was. He really needed to sleep, but was too wound up and freaked out to manage it. "Fuck, what do you want? I can't train with you, leave me the fuck alone!"

Ordinarily he was in better control of his anger, but this wasn't anger. It was fear. And however intimidating Rorschach might be, Chris knew distantly in the back of his head that he'd never really hurt him: a degree of common sense that was eliminated in the face of his illness.

Full of mistrust, Chris wasn't so easily led around and was determined to keep from being cornered. His eyes darted nervously back and forth, weighing the possibility of escape to either side of the approaching Rorschach. He couldn't slow down and take stock of why he felt the need to run away because his brain was already being kicked into overdrive from paranoia and adrenaline.

The mask was the worst of it; Chris couldn't look directly into his warden's face, with the way the ink blots moved unnaturally and twisted around in his vision. It was making him sick and scared and worse off, so instead he focused his gaze somewhere around Rorschach's chest.

"You go somewhere more secure. I'm okay. I'll be okay. Leave me alone."

Rorschach backing off didn't calm Chris down, but it kept him from getting worse. He rubbed at his eyes with frustration, trying to ease his splitting headache and clear his vision because he was beginning to see double again. Maybe his goddamn contacts were acting up again.

"Why?" He asked, shuffling to the side in the hopes of potentially making a break for it. "I'm okay right here. I don't..I'm just sick, I'm not contagious, I'm fine, I can...do this..."

He was babbling nonsensically, trying to say everything at once in the hopes that somewhere in his ranting he'd hit upon the magic words that would make Rorschach and everything else go away.

That was the really shitty thing about being on the barge. It wasn't that he'd died, or that he was outmatched by most of the barge or that he was expected to redeem himself by shunning his family. It was the concept of how actually alone he was, and how the only person who was going to make sure he lived or died was himself. After living seventeen years under a tightly knit mafia family and sheltered from the rest of the world outside, Chris was fast coming to the realization that he wasn't worth anything to anyone else, except that his graduation could give his warden a deal. He wasn't anyone's relative, he didn't have any bargaining chips except himself, and because of this he couldn't run to anyone trustworthy if he needed help.

There wasn't anyone trustworthy. He didn't trust the people who were friendly without wanting anything - because seriously, who was that altruistic? - and he didn't trust the people who did want something because as soon as they got it, he'd be dumped to the curb. Chris had zero connections to his name.

Cassel was new, but that only meant that Chris hadn't spent enough time with him to figure out his angle. No way in hell was he letting him see him at his most vulnerable. His eyes flicked up to meet Cassel's and he paused, wincing still at the pain.

"...Jesus fuck ow..What..? What do you want? Fuck off!" The disease was making him break out into a sweat, and the heat all over his body was cutting his temper extremely short. He made to take a step back, breathing out and in with exaggerated struggle.

"...No, I. I'm just. Fuck. Sorry, I can't...think right now. Fuck, everything hurts."

Despite the pain and the heat and the headaches, Chris managed to give a choking sort of delirious laugh, staggering backwards away from Cassel.

"You...really don't know my fucking warden." He managed, wiping his forehead down and struggling to focus.

"No, man. No, fuck, I can't sit still. It's driving me crazy, I have to keep moving. Fuck it, I don't. I can't lie down, it hurts too fucking much."