First he saw the blood on the floor, his own turning to ice in his veins seconds later. The body is still bleeding, but dead nonetheless. Without another seconds hesitation he was at Murphy's side, the worry in his tone and expression impossible to miss as he took his shoulders in his hands. At a glance, he looked alright – shaken, but alright.

"Murph' – fuckin' Christ, you alright? Tell me you're alright, come on-"

"I'm fine – Connor, I'm fine. Jus' gave me heart attack is all…" Neither was very accustomed to lying to their sibling, but then again, Murphy guessed that was why Connor didn't catch it as he swallowed the lie like a dry pill. He was too concerned with his wellbeing to notice. He would have been the same with Connor, he knew that. He was thankful it was dark, that they could barely see each other; his entire demeanor was a second away from crumbling. He hated lying to Connor, simply because they just never did it. They had lied to others -nothing big, of course - but between the two of them? Nothing had ever been hidden. But now, he here was - lying straight to his twins face. Still, he was mindful to try and keep his tone even, and his injured arm just out of the way. Connor believed him, so he'd have no reason to check him over. He trusted him. And as he was pulled into a tight hug, the dry pill became that much rougher going down.

"…I'm sorry I scared you"

"Don't make a habit out of it – you're sure you're alright? No scratches or-"

"Aye, I'm sure – didn't get close enough. Jus' scared the shit outta me"

"I'll bet." Connor offered a small smile, though Murphy could see that raw fear from seconds ago still ebbing its way out of his system. He didn't speak again until they'd finished checking the rest of the house, making sure it was clear before they let themselves relax even a little. Slumping onto the bed in one of the rooms upstairs, Connor could only look at his hands, Murphy too busy checking the lock on the door to notice.

"I'm sorry, Murph'. For snappin' earlier. Didn't mean ta bite your head off" Murphy just glanced back, shrugging a little.

"S'fine. I know you didn't."

"An' for that, back there. I should'a been there with you. I should've known better than to let'cha go off-"

"Conn' – I'm fine. You can that for yourself. You don't need to follow me everywhere, I can look after me'self."

"I'm bein' serious - y'know what I mean, Murph', an' I'm not gonna have you going off by yourself again. Where you go, I go. Vice versa. Y'hear me?" When Murphy just nodded in reply, Connor dropped his head down, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. With his gaze finally elsewhere, Murphy ventured to excuse himself – of course, with protest at first, but with the bathroom only a few feet away and them both knowing this floor was clear, hesitantly, Connor let him go. Only once the door locked did Murphy let himself show just how much pain he was in. The bite wound would surely start bleeding through to his shirt soon, he'd need to dress it somehow. But there was nothing in here, nothing he could really use to cover it long term – that was assuming 'long term' still applied to him. Eventually finding a flannel cloth, he bit down on his tongue as he peeled away the towel from before, dressing the wound as best he could before cleaning his hands of blood, checking his shirt again, and going back to his brother.