You and Paul lay in a trench, exhausted from running from the French shelling. There was word of a bombardment and you were terrified so Paul took you under his wing, feeling responsible for you. He sat next to you, panting. Your ears were ringing so you couldn't hear the calls of 'Gas' Paul reaches over quickly and roughly puts you mask on you, his hands cold and rough, as he tackles you out of the trench to avoid gas "By God son, are you alright!?"