[The puking is a very near thing. He makes a pathetic moan of nausea and regret as he's brought upright and slung across Miguel's shoulder, in weak protest - or perhaps instinctively, a warning. To be in such a vulnerable state, even barely conscious, seems to make him defensive.

But as his head rolls against Miguel's collar, and he breathes in the scent of him - familiar, comforting and beloved, a connection already hardwired in his head - the clone relaxes. Safety - he craved it more than anything else. He wanted it to swallow him up and keep him stable, secure.

So if he suddenly gets much more clingy... well. Miguel will just have to live with it. There's suddenly a mental pressure radiating from the clone, maybe it's just his imagination? But it hangs like a subliminal message in the back of Miguel's head, an incessant command. A miserable plea.

help me... help... me]