Forlorn and still catching his breath. Maybe crying a little.

"Pet?" asks Isabella, looking up.

"Victor just kicked Jackson on the chest pretty hard and I'm not sure if Jackson asked or stuff but I think he's crying and I don't think he did ask and superhero syndrome."

Jackson has half-crawled over to a corner, not even a table, with his crepe. He occasionally rubs his face with a sleeve and picks at his food.

"I'm fine," he says, hoarsely. "I can take it."

"But do you want to take it?" she asks softly. "If he hurt you against your will or something we could talk to someone about it..."

"I mean," coughs Jackson, "I wish somebody would kick me because they like me instead of because they can't stand me but I can, you know, pretend."

She sighs. "What did you two talk about?"

"He said he told me what'd happen if I came on to him again," says Jackson. "And I said yeah he did. And he said I was a perverted little creep and he kicked me."

She runs a hand through her hair, still hugging her knees with the other arm. "Oh, Jackson..."

Shrug. Cough.

"...do you maybe want to go see a nurse or something? There's a proper way to do this and I'm pretty sure that was not it."

"...to do what?"

"Kick someone? I mean, that's not my particular kink so I may be wrong, but."

"Oh. I dunno. It's not that bad."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't want to get too much attention."

"I'm pretty sure anyone at Student Health will keep quiet about it if you ask them to, and maybe even if you don't. I mean, he probably didn't hurt you too much, but if the coughing continues for too long..."

"I'm not even coughing anymore."

"I guess."

"He just knocked the wind out of me is all."