In all the adrenalin, in all the thrill, Tom's forgotten to try and keep careful track of the time between each lurch of the gravity controls. It's as if the air itself has plucked them up into its mouth, mulling them over in an invisible jaw, deciding whether to swallow them or retch them up and back onto the floor.

"Damn!" By fortune, the knife comes towards Tom after ricocheting off the wall, and he easily catches and palms it. Less fortunately, he finds that his last step, the one he made right before the gravity kicked out, has sent shockwaves through his bad leg, as if he stepped onto a place where he expected a stair and found nothing to support his weight. And it pushes him away from Grantaire, the two of them floating slowly away from each other.

"Brace yourself, lad..." Tom frowns, dispensing advice to the man he was so eager to kill mere moments ago. He's sure Grantaire knows what's going to come next: the unpleasant crash, gravity weighing twofold on their bodies as it slams them to the ground with the vindictiveness of a petty god. He could try and push off the nearest surface he hits and pursue Grantaire, but he worries now, with his leg throbbing, what will happen if the crash comes next with him not braced.