York is heavy in Ratchet's grip, his eyes squeezed shut against the flashing lights and teeth gritted against the shocks coursing through his limbs. He knows they've made it to the bathroom just because the movement has stopped, and struggles again, though the odds of his legs holding him up without the support are low. If Ratchet lets go he'll probably just crumple to the ground.

It sounds like the other man is speaking to him from underwater but he can still make it out so he nods in response. He opens his eyes and the room is distorted, like the walls are pulsing around them, and he lets out a low sound of distress, shutting them again. His breathing is too fast and shallow and he's starting to feel dizzy as well.

"Seeing, hearing, feeling. I need it to stop..." Maybe if he attacked a guard they'd knock him out, give him some respite from this suffering. Keep him away from the others, keep him sedated until his brain can get its shit together. Maybe they'd help him. Or maybe they'd kill him. He doesn't know and he's not sure he cares right now which they'd do.

When he opens his eyes again he manages to meet Ratchet's gaze, his voice grave and serious. "I'm a liability."