His breathing was getting worse and it was impeding his work. Fixing the portal device was crucial to his and Octavio's survival, it was a task that had be completed at any cost. Caustic knew this dimension was extremely dangerous to the both of them, himself moreso. If he failed to survive, his aging body or his illness would destroy him first. Octavio was a hazard to himself, completely reckless in every way. He knew if Octavio wasn't careful, the che- daredevil could get himself killed. There would be no respawn, as far as either knew. He would die permanently and everything they had would be for naught.
It was acting particularly bad this morning, the effort he had expelled yesterday pulling away all the kudzu probably did this. He felt so weak, he was used to running all of the arena on a daily basis, killing others left and right for sport and now? He was reduced to a wolf with equally-toxic venom and- an unhinged, feral growl releases from his throat, gas sneaking through his teeth. He feels degraded and demoralized and it made his mood all the more awful. He lays down for a moment, letting the coughs rack through his body, burning through his lungs and up his throat, to his nose. Mucus and spit splattered onto the dirt, as Caustic let his head rest on his paws, taking small breaths to regain control, and resuming into normal breathing.
Caustic tilted his head back, standing, then rebalancing himself.
No one saw it. This time. He continues his walk, stepping up to the Sawbone's home finally. Caustic growls, knowing he will have to explain and expect patient confidentiality from the cat. His eyes squeeze shut, inhaling a wheezy, wet breath, leaning against the house's doorframe with his shoulder, and quickly sitting.
Weakness, this was all weakness. Any weakness here would get him killed, because the strong would filter out the weak.
His eyes cast towards the direction he believes the Typhoon to be in, and Octavio's face flashes through his vision. He had to be strong, to survive and get them out of here. He lets his paw slap against Selby's door, well aware any of the kids were liable to greet him and hoped the Sawbone himself would be the one to answer. Caustic also hoped that Selby would be able to help him. While Caustic had a love of plants and had tried reading a few herb books to find his own alternatives, it was pulling him away from other work. Besides, there was no denying Selby probably had more experience than him, even if calling herbs medicine was a far stretch of logic.
He tilts his head back, snout clear of the door as he knocks again.

Oh, this would be so easy to fix back in his own time. He was on regular medication, then. It kept all his symptoms away, minus a slight cough. Caustic lets his weight fall and rest against the doorframe. He hears little pawsteps incoming, and relief floods over him.
This was stupid, asking the Sawbone for herbs, but he could barely breathe. The door opens, and Caustic lets his eyes reopen, looking down at Selby. He takes in a breathe- it's wheezy and wet, thick with mucus. The wolf's head tilts back, trying to straighten his airway out to make it easier to breathe.
"Sel-" He's immediately wracked by coughs, throing his head down to direct his coughs at the floor. Caustic's shoulders wrack back and forth at the motion. It takes him a moment to egain control, until his breathing regulates back into short, steady breathes.
He raises a paw, gesturing from his nose to his chest.
"I need you..." his voice is low and soft, breathes heavy between statements. "To keep your silence," it's a request for patient confidentiality.