"Fuck, if something slides and I die? Don't tag the fuckers, I want them cooked and served to Operations with a nice dose of guilt," he snorted, less woozy and more nauseas now. Awesome.

Right, Yama moving gave him a bit of room to wiggle around and hopefully get himself upright.

Where 'room' meant 'about a trunk's worth of space to fold around in'. Eh, he'd make it work.