It was all Puck could do not to follow Quinn suit and check his own phone, but it wasn't on vibrate, and it was right by the bed. If Blaine had called or texted, Puck would've heard it, complete with Blaine's own personal ringtone. Things were okay, or Blaine would've let him know. He knew that, but it didn't stop the burning need in him to be in constant contact with his BFF, and to protect him from any hurt this world had to offer. Despite being a very straight male, Puck shared the fag hag feelings with Quinn, and he would do anything within his power to protect Blaine from pain of any kind. He glanced over at Quinn, though, trying to offer her comfort. "I think they're okay right now," he told her, reaching over to pat her arm, and trying to ignore the almost jolt-like feeling that shot through him at the sensation of being in bed with her and actually touching her, innocent though it was.

Without thinking about it, Puck rolled onto his side so that he could see her better while talking to her. "I have no doubt of that," he said with a small smile. Quinn didn't seem the type to just take shit that she didn't want. "I don't kick in my sleep. Blaine's the one you have to watch. I shared a tent with him on a camping trip once? Dude's tiny, but he does this starfish thing when he sleeps, and he like... booted me in the junk in his sleep." He laughed just a little, that particular memory far more entertaining now than it had been at the time. "It's... I've never seen anyone like that before. I mean, I've seen some sick, and tiny people in my job... Junkies and even people with eating disorders, but not this... I hope B can really help him, Quinn. He loves him so much that it hurts me sometimes knowing how hard it is on him. But he hurts more without Kurt than he does with him, even though it kills him watching him hurt."