He will of course make it all of thirty impaired feet before met with a Misty, satisfied that the mission is as accomplished as they're capable of seeing through and chillingly, harrowingly nervous.

With good cause, one could surmise, the way her eyes widen at the sight of him.

"Holy shit- are you okay? Soldat?" Good enough to move, but she knows well enough how misleading that can be. The approach is a jog, to an abrupt halt, hands hovering and eyes flying from one appendage to the next. Assessing, guessing, imagining worst case scenarios. "Which is worst? And can you make it inside, or are we doing this here?"