Luka had been wandering aimlessly for a while— trying to get a grasp of this city and its inhabitants. It seemed, though, that the lack of food, being thrown into a place he was entirely unfamiliar with, and random social encounters had a negative impact on his body. There's no aliens to whisk him away for medical treatment, was there?
His head was pounding. He found it harder and harder to keep his vision focused. As he was making his way down a busy street, a stranger bumped into him, causing him to lose his balance and sway until he bumped into another person— and, well, that was it. He was going down. Time to break some bones.
Unless...?
He reached out towards the person he had just tumbled into, grabbing onto their shirt mindlessly. It definitely softened his fall, and he was able to slowly lower himself to his knees, breathing heavily in exhaustion. He was, indeed, still gripping their shirt, stretching it out rudely, before his gaze slowly drifted upwards.
His breath caught in his throat, eyes widened, and his fingers tinging purple.
He was currently kneeling, covered in sweat, paler than usual— grasping onto Mizi's shirt like a child as he stared up at her, effectively stunlocked.