Having his friend in such a state was distressing, a part of Tim liked the situation. For the first time in his life, he was in control. Never before had he experienced this kind of independence, and the rush from it was exhilarating. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to save Rick, but that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy the moment. But, as is often the case, something else did.
Tim started to feel a tingling on his palm. At first, he shrugged it off as the feeling of Rick's latex-covered hand rubbing against his own, and ignored it so that he could focus on getting his pal to the lobby. It wasn't until that tingling started to spread, first to the back of his hand and then to his wrist, before he looked back to check... and found the same red rubber that had engulfed his best friend slowly creeping its way onto him. He reflexively let go and jumped back, and as he did the spread of the rubber ceased instantly, stopping as it formed what looked like a red glove around his hand. He flexed it, noting the sensation of the latex stretching to accommodate his movements. He touched it, finding the feeling of the "glove" pleasant.
Clenching his hand into a fist and then turning to face Rick, Tim's terror-filled mind tried to sort itself out. He couldn't save Rick, touching him would just lead to sharing his fate. He couldn't run, leaving a lifelong pal behind. Paralyzed by indecision and cowardice, Tim found himself unable to do anything but collapse, screaming, to the floor, hoping that one of his other friends would hear him and come to the rescue.