It's hard for Irahl to keep track of exactly how he's oriented in space, but he's aware enough for a vaguely-alarmed grunt as he worries that he's about to be rolled off the edge of the bed... followed by a far more strained and muffled sound when Vincent's shoulder begins to come down onto his ribs and flatten them against the mattress.

It might not be the most comfortable move for Vincent's twisted wrist, but he's definitely gaining more control of the limb as Irahl's range of motion is limited. And he gets the satisfaction of hearing the effects of his good work as he squishes the air out of his friend's lungs.

"Gods... how many fries did you eat..."