No, I've tried controlling it. I can get a handle on it but some days it's worse and some days it's better and there's not usually a way to tell how bad things are going to be until I'm hit with it.

[Another quick glance at the door to make sure it's shut. Chris crosses his arms, staring fixedly at a point around Mark's kneecap, flushed]

I need you to.

[Deep breath. Try again]

I need you to help turn me straight.