[Blake ignores the offered help and climbs woozily to his feet. He takes stock of the skinny guy with the dog, and realizes he recognizes him.]

I know you. You're the bonehead. [He's still out of breath. He touches his face and winces when he finds a long scratch.] I mean the skeleton.

And here I thought the TSA was a pain in the ass.

[He goes to check on his bat. A little scraped up, but no broken wings or anything. Blake fishes his backpack out of a bush and digs out a Potion to spray him with.]

Everybody acts like this shit is easy. You just hop on for your morning commute.