"You'll be fine. Everything'll be fine." Though his words were strained as he locked his jaw and kept his arms around your neck and kept you in a firm headlock as you bucked and kicked occasionally. An angry red bite mark from one of the local lycans had been left undisclosed by you until now when you'd gotten feverish and nearly passed out right as he managed to barricade the doors and windows of the rickety shack you were holed up in after getting separated from the rest of the squad.

He'd been rightfully upset but had managed to keep his cool as he contacted the rest of the squad and spoke through copious amounts of static into his radio which seemed to be loosing connection in the snowstorm that had begun picking up outside, occasional puffs of snow sitting through the small cracks in the boards. The problem had arisen when your begun trying to bite him and he was forced to recreate some of his least favorite memories of shoving off eager biters as his mind called back to the Spencer Mansion all those years ago.

He grunted softly in confusion as the shaggy quality that the infected villagers' hair seemed to possess, set in on your tresses, fairly quick infection rate. He couldn't grab for his knife without giving you the opportunity to sink your teeth into his forearm or rip through a patch of the tight sweater that hugged his skin. Your bucking had picked up and he noticed the hunch of your spine seeming to enhance as the vertebrae pressed and dug into his stomach "We just need to wait this out, understood? Just wait it out, we'll grab Ethan and then we'll leave this fucking place. Sound good?" His comment was met with a hissing spot by you as you kicked, spittle bubbling on your lips as the shag of your hair pulled down further and you began to draw blood from your own lips as your sharpening teeth grazed your jaw. Too many. He'd lost too many good soldiers over the years and right now his mind was pushing images of Piers to the forefront. "You're fine. We're fine." He repeated it like a mantra