You can hear Jetter mutter that he got hit with something on the way up, and pulls what looks like a dart out of his shoulder. Dad demands to know why he didn’t say anything, to which the razorblade type mumbles that he didn’t want Jasper to freak out and drop them. Your fatherly TCP sighs and drags the bag over, asking Jetter to put his hand in every so often and soak up some jelly. At least that would keep him stable until whatever it is wears off.