He should have been terrified. He should have reached for a gun, or a knife, or something. Anything.

But he didn't.

He stared up at you from where you crouched over his injured body, hackles raised and teeth bared, putting a new appreciation for life in the eyes of the enemy squad that shot him down in the first place. If the pain in his side weren't so unbearable, he would've laughed. Or maybe just huffed in amusement.

"You're.. somethin' special, aren't you?"