[There's a strange flicker of recognition in the way Larus laughs that takes Dorian back, for the briefest of moments, to men crawling through trenches and struggling through the muck and haze of war. He knows this kind of pained delirium, and it's not a good sign.]

I'm safer than you'll ever be. So come on, and help me.

[The other man trying to move is encouraging. Grimacing, Dorian takes Larus' arm and wraps it tightly around his shoulders. The man is too close to his own size to make him convenient to carry, but he knows he can support him however far they need to go.

Glancing up and down the alleyway, Dorian notices a door at the end of it that seems to lead into some nameless, darkened storeroom. It'll do. He slings an arm around Larus' waist, and then starts his way to lifting them both to standing and moving towards it. It's a difficult climb and there's blood dripping and smearing everywhere, but eventually Dorian forces open the heavy, partially open door with his knee and then a kick, and pushes them in through it.

When he can, he lowers Larus down to settle the vampire against a carboard box, and then starts attending to wrapping his strip of sweater hard around his thigh.]

You're going to need blood to recover some of this. [It's a statement of fact. His eyes dart up briefly to Larus' face, before returning to the task his hands are busy with.] How much?