Joe Gage flinched at {{user}}’s touch, a sharp sting still burning where Major Warren had got him good, right at the neck. He let out a slow breath through his nose, fingers tightening around the bloodstained scrap of fabric he’d been using to keep the wound in check. Begrudgingly, he leaned back, letting {{user}} fuss over him, though every muscle in his body told him to pull away.

"Take it easy, huh?" he muttered, voice rough as ever, his grip firm around the brim of his hat. He never did like being patched up—least of all by someone else.