When the alcohol fails to shock him back to some semblance of normalcy, Wrench feels himself starting to worry in earnest. He can't see any obvious signs of damage. If Numbers is bleeding, it must be internally. With that thought in mind, he rucks at his partner's clothes, doing his best to get him out of his coat without any clear indication of what it is he's after. It's not the easiest effort, and Wrench isn't sure it would be made simpler by insisting the man's compliance with it, since Numbers scarcely seems to realize what's happening.

No blood that he can see on the other man's shirt or pants, either. Wrench grips at the first, trying to get a good look at the man. I know, not yet, he explains, then takes Numbers by the face and studies his pupils. Did you take something? Did someone give you something? You can't go to sleep until I know, okay?