There was a flurry of footsteps as Miguel and those alongside him backed away from the creeping man, who was looking… well, beyond saving. Judging by what he'd left behind in the bathroom it was a miracle the man was still alive at all, but if he was looking to get help he was certainly going about it strangely. He seemed incapable of hearing anything, or he was ignoring Julian completely - either way, his behavior was very alarming.<br/><br/>"Wesley, you need to relax, you're not well!"<br/><br/>The man issued a sound that sounded something like a choked shriek coming from underwater, and Miguel quickly forgot what he was about to say next. Not only did the man seem incapable of hearing them, but he also couldn't speak.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Not to mention… all that,</span>he thought as he threw a quick, disbelieving glance back at the alarming amount of congealing blood on the tiles beneath the sink. But his veins… they were probably the worst of it. The sight of them filled Miguel with a mixture of horror and revulsion.<br/><br/>"Someone call 911," he said, intending the words for his brother, but saying them so everyone around him could hear, "this has to be what they were talking about on the ne-"<br/><br/>Wes pushed himself up to something halfway between standing and crouching and lunged forward; he would've barreled right into Miguel's chest had he not had the presence of mind to step aside at the last second. The sick man fell into a chair which toppled over under his weight, groaning incomprehensibly as he fought to get back up again. His staring, bloodshot eyes were already fixed on the people near the bathroom - there was really no explanation for his behavior, but Miguel supposed it could be that the man was simply delirious, and lashing out at anyone nearby. It was a relief to see Ken rummaging around behind the front desk; the sooner someone made the phone call, the better.<br/><br/>He returned his attention to Wesley in time to see him staggering towards him at full speed; there was no trace of recognition in his expression, nothing to suggest the employee he'd hired so long ago was still in there. A hand swiped violently at him and he jerked his head back, narrowly avoiding it as the man lost his balance again, thrown off by his own momentum.<br/><br/>This time he spun on the spot, his limbs flailing haphazardly, and he lurched back towards Miguel and the others once again.<br/><br/>A deafening sound erupted from the right, and they all looked on in shock as Wesley was jolted backward. He landed hard on the floor, but Miguel was staring at Ken, at a loss. The pistol in his hand was shaking, but it was nothing compared to the person wielding it. He was pale, and looked like he was about to be sick.<br/><br/>"Mierda! Ken! What the fuck, man!" Miguel shouted, furious at himself for assuming the man was looking for the phone when the damn thing was right on top of the desk. He'd clearly panicked and made a snap decision. "You shot him in the chest!"<br/><br/>There was another groan, and the elder de Santa stared with wide eyes as Wesley picked himself up with astonishing speed before once again lumbering towards him and the others. He showed no signs of having just been shot - he looked exactly the same, only with a new bloodstain decorating the front of his shirt.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">What the fuck</span>is<span style="font-style: italic">this?</span>