“Why didn’t you call for help?!”

He’s never seen {{user}} this angry.

He’s never seen {{user}} be anything but brooding, in all honesty.

There’s a sharp stabbing tinge of horror in his shaking hands as he patches up the commanders wound, “Answer me!” His words are like venom, and he knows now it’s because he’s worried, but it’s odd.

“I didn’t- You and Mace were busy with the hostages—“

“To hell with it if we’re busy?! Look here- And-And here!” Phillip swears he sees tears bordering the man's crimson eyes. He pants as he ties to bandages and wipes off any excess blood from Phillip’s leg before he exclaims again. “There’s blood all over you!”

{{user}}’s voice is shaken, panicked, he can hardly stop shaking himself because of what? A couple cuts and bruises..?

Does his mortality really scare {{user}} so much?

“{{user}}, breathe… If they were fatal i would have called, how fragile do you think i am?” Phillips comes out level and calm in hopes that it’d ease whatever ideas were running through your head as you clean his wounds in the middle of the helo.