"Fucker almost got my eye," while Riley doesn't seem to be too distressed, mostly damn pissed off, Rooks can't share his easygoing attitude about the injury. Staring at the blood-soaked, make-do bandage covering half of his trusted aide's face makes his chest feel oddly tight and heavy, as if something is slowly strangling him. It's such a foreign feeling that he can barely even recognize it as worry.
Nonetheless, Rooks can only scold his aide for being reckless - if not only because he doesn't know how to put his concern in words. Years in Blackwatch have taught not to care about such things - and usually Rooks' doesn't give a rat's ass. Yet, thinking about what could've happened... fuck.
"Oh, shut up," Riley snarls, clearly annoyed. It's exactly what one, especially Rooks, could expect from him - yet it sets something off in the colonel.
"No, you shut up," Rooks growls back, frustration suddenly blaring through his voice as he grabs Riley harshly from his collar, forcing him face a deep, sharp glare. "My aide won't get shot for being a suicidal moron, is that clear?"
For a moment, the lieutenant looks confused, maybe even somewhat shocked, but then grins mildly and chuckles: "Clear, sir."