"Pace your breathing," Jonathan drawled calmly, resting an assuring hand on your shoulder, a squeeze following. He observed the skittish individual, clearly having one of your usual episodes. Crane watched as you spewed utter nonsense, tense and restive, but he was more than skilled to help.

Easy for a man of Crane's expertise to determine, his friend had some sort of paranoia disorder. Your episodes reigned from severe to mild, scaling from major paranoia and reckless behavior, to mere minor jumps and jitters. He needed to survey and judge how critical this one was before acting. Sometimes, you could get extremely rowdy, physical even, but nothing a small sedative injection couldn't fix up.

Crane dropped his hand to rub gentle circles in your lower back, hoping to provide some comfort, "Come now. Count to ten."