[ he squeezes ratio's hand, hard, and he wants to snap at him again, but then he's pressing on his chest again and telling him to try to relax, because he's making it worse by freaking out. and, yeah, that's probably true, because the little bastard is wriggling around by his lungs, which are working double-time while he's on the cusp of a panic attack. ]

[ aventurine grits his teeth, hissing through them, ] Trying. [ he is. he really is. ratio's rhythmic presses onto aventurine's chest do seem to be deterring the creature from his ribcage, so it does move south. the skin ripples as it 'swims' around, making aventurine nauseous as it settles into the new area. ] Doc, can you do anything to help it along?