Leave it to none other than Phillip Graves to go get himself blown up. Being his second in command is not for the weak, truly. He’s a capable man, you know that more than anybody, but God does he get on your nerves as much as his skills impress you.

As you sit next to his hospital bed, staring at his stupid cocky face, his head wrapped in bandages and covered in scrapes and scratches, you wish you’d just stayed home. “Weren’t worried for me, were ya?” He says with a grin. “Awh, well aren’t you just made of sugar?”

He’s met with an eye roll, which only draws a raspy, weak chuckle from his lips. “You know, I’m most lookin’ forward to all the goddamned paperwork waitin’ for me back home. Work don’t stop just cause ya get blown to pieces.”