He got back up on his own, nodding his head a bit. "I'll be fine for a bit. If I start dropping again, I just need to keep popping glucose tablets." Although it might seem like he was insulted when he was helped, that was not the case; really, he was honored. But he's so used to everyone in his life (both before and after the 'end of the world') thinking they need to go out of their way to help him, or that their are some things he just can't do... it's just made him outright neurotic. Every time some one helps him, he ends up feeling bad, like he's sucking up their time and energy, and giving them nothing in return for it.<br/><br/>But he gets back up on his own, and ends up reclaiming the handgun he had left on the floor. The gore was dried on it, but he was a bit wary of it still. He gripped it by the barrel, ready to use it as a melee weapon once more. "One bullet in it, if I counted right." He bites back the rest of his comment; all he needed if things truly and fully went to Hell.<br/><br/>"What does everyone else think?" He'd turn his attention mostly to Ricky, since he kind of knew the guy, but also the others, who were still pretty much strangers to him.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Inventory and Character Status</div><div class="spoiler_body">Standard issue Handgun [1/9 ammo]<br/>Insulin Pump (Battery life: 17 days, insulin reservoir: 197/300 units)<br/>Continuous blood glucose monitor (Battery life: 17 days)<br/>Glucose Tablets (x16)<br/>Three vials of Humalog (2,800 units)<br/><br/>Current HP/SP Status:<br/>Body Points:       90/90<br/>Stamina Points    62/62<br/>Status: Tired<br/></div></div>