First Aid sighs, softly holding Sixshot's head gently between his hands. He gets tired quickly, his grip going limp but not moving, trapping Sixshot's head in a loose hold against his chest.

"Do you want to be with him?" Tarn, that is. Getting mauled has made him reflective on the situation. He feels...okay enough to ask about it now, but already his tank was starting to knot.