That was the answer he'd been expecting, but still not the one he wanted to hear, "You know we can't let that happen, Buck." He said, trying to get to his feet and only managing to struggle partway up before falling back again, practically blinded with pain, because even just that amount of torque and pressure against that badly rent stab wound in his thigh and what had narrowly avoided being a gut shot had been enough to remind him on no uncertain terms, that those weren't the kind of injuries one could just walk off.

What he finally managed to say once he could make his voice work again for anything other than rough breathing that bordered on an actual whimper was: "If they're coming for you, it's not safe."