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On the last hit, Clyde went down. Van was screaming. Something about fear shields and where was a definite cut on his arm from the blade of the shove.

He crumpled. He was not getting back up. "Joy... what did you break?" he sounded terribly confused. Clyde hadn't hand't had an injury like this in a long time, and he was being a big baby about it, holding it and staring in shock at the little bit of blood that managed to seep out.

The training field protected him from anything worst, but he was just so confused.

Clyde glances at her and the the bleeding on his arm. did he really need kisses or healing? No. he had suffered far worst before deus. But he was going to pout about this.

"I'm dying Joy. I certainly think I need coffee. Perhaps you should carry me too." he laid down dramatically. "Maybe a trip to the infimary, before I bleed out."

You are fine! You big baby. Vanessa was unimpressed. Just don't get hurt more or you won't be.

"I wouldn't get a concussion from that. I'm too thick headed." he allowed her to pull him up and then actually stood on his own. He was fine, the cut wasn't that deep. But he needed to watch that. It was concerning to see himself hurt.

Then he suddenly had a "Fainting spell" and leaned on her. "Too weak. Can't stand... need coffee."

"You have good stuff?" his voice turned hopeful. "Joy, Joy please you can't torment me like this. It is a torment worst than death knowing there is good coffee around and being unable to drink it. Please, I'll fix your roof or something. Hang pictures. Just share."

Was he addicted? The answer was, yes, yes he was. And his room wasn't a good place to stash good coffee. there wasn't even an electrical outlet for a coffee maker. Now he didn't mind camping, but the cafeteria coffee was gone, and a man needed his coffee. Clyde followed along.