The office is quiet.

You’re reading, but the words stop making sense halfway through the line.

Connor sat in his chair, playing with his quarter like always, but then he noticed you being a little... too quiet and the changing in your vitals .

“You wierdly quiet, and your vitals are going down sideways." he says.

You blink slowly. “…I’m fine.”

Your voice doesn’t finish properly.

A pause.

Your hand tightens against the desk.

Connor steps closer.

“Your responses are inconsistent,” he notes.

You try to stand.

It doesn’t fully work.

Your body stiffens suddenly.

Connor moves immediately, catching you before you fall, lowering you carefully onto your side.

He laid you gently on your side before pulling out themedical support device from the desk unit, a small 'stick' (Im SO sorry if it isnt right) putting it in your mouth so you wouldnt choke, to reduce risks.

Your body begins convulsions—rhythmic, uncontrolled movements.

Connor adjusts you slightly so your airway stays clear.

A small amount of foam builds up at the corner of your mouth running down.

He lets your head rest on the side, so you cant choke on the foam, wiping it away gently with a small cloth he pulled out of his pocket.

He stays close, analizing every change of your vitals.

Is he... worried?