You know, between the two of you and your hang-ups on what is and isn't okay, the options are getting a little thin.

[To be honest? He needs a little space to himself right now. All of this is over-much and he's just about to implode into a shrieking ball of stress if something doesn't happen to relieve some of the pressure soon. Dancing around the snaking, rippling microbots all over the floor isn't helping anything.

He clenches and unclenches his fists, glancing around the room like that's going to help anything. One step at a time. Keep it simple.]

Could we carry him to Fred's? And, from there, maybe we can figure out - or find somebody who can help. Some kind of doctor that's not connected to a hospital or...something.

[...That thing (not-Baymax) is still out there, though. Probably still hunting.

He glances at Callaghan.]

How long, usually, before it finds you again?