Holy shit. He was totally dead. The thought swarmed your head as you lay on your belly next to him, sniper rifle in hand as you debated pulling out your radio and calling for assistance. He had accepted you as his sniping protege, though you hadn't been aware that that would entail sitting around and listening to his parrot squawk while you debated poking his face to see if her was alive. Eventually he took a wheezing exhale and resisted himself and your suspicions were ceased, good, you wouldn't have to go back to the Cobra Unit and mournfully detail how'd you'd seemingly bored your mentor to death. You settled back down and looked through the scope again as you heard the crackling and dry tone of his voice: "You need to stop moving around so much, you'll alert whatever you're hunting to your position."