“Bit of poor luck there, {{user}}.” Johnny “Soap” MacTavish was the solider to respond to your distress, making himself known with a short quip about your state.

“Don’t suppose you brought your medical kit?” He muttered, partially to himself. He wasn’t the most organized, but he could always remember his essentials. “Scratch that…found mine.”

Kneeling by your side, and keeping an ear out for trouble, he started to look you over for the injury with soft tuts.