You have hot breath on your back and a baffling battle around you, and the drooling of a pal is the last thing you're going to pay attention to in the midst of trouble. Later though, Tidus is sure to question why his shirt clings way too closely to his skin; but for now he's glad for his feet to find ground, and any complaint he could voice in complaint to Jingyi's complaining is more of an urge than anything concrete.

He's busy, rounding around Jingyi, past limbs and to the struggling refugee undertail, inhaling deep as he calls forward the spell into his hand. (The one spell he can handle like this, where his palm becomes the contact, and he might've had a few accidents before in knocking himself out, but we don't talk about those.)

"Night-night for you," he says, dropping to his knees, the refugee wanting to get away but capable of nothing but squirming, hand rising to bat at Tidus, but he gets his hand just as gracelessly into the person's face -- and after some more wiggling, they slowly, finally settle.

(Does he have to touch a person's face? Yes. Look, he doesn't make the rules of how his subconscious allows magic to work.)

Now, just the rest of the camp to go.