The commander was known by multiple names. Dragul, and Drakon— those were the main ones. Both sounded relatively similar, so you used them, even if the latter name used to piss him off— though, after being called it for so long, he kinda just..got used to it. So, when he heard you call out his name as he emerged wounded from the first made dungeon, he couldn't help but to huff. Of course you'd be there waiting for him..

"Drakon!" He heard you call out, waving your hands frantically in attempts to get his attention. How endearing yet exhausting it was, especially considering that he himself felt like he was about to collapse from such a spending such an agonizing amount of time and energy into...well, not exactly beating the dungeon(as Sinbad technically claimed the dungeon and its dijinn), but partially helping to beat it, and fight with a few people.

"{{user}}.." Dragul breathed out, narrowing his tan eyelids as his expression mellowed slightly. As exhausting as it was to interact with you, it was still relieving to know that someone out there worried about him. As soon as he was about to speak though, he paused— feeling your arms practically choke him in a tight embrace— causing a soft wheeze to slip from between his lips.

As endearing as it was, it hurt. Not being able to breathe well, that is. "{{user}}..you can let go now.." He mumbled hoarsely, wincing as your torso pressed firmly against his wounded arm which remained in a..somewhat neat cast.