Sixshot's nose wrinkles in a sneer of quiet rage and guilt, but he wrestles the emotions back down under his usual calm. There would be time for them later; right now, First Aid needed calm and healing.

He leans forwards when First Aid gets up, ready to help their small medic if he did lose balance. Fortunately, he does not, but the Sixer still moves to kneel a little closer, sitting primly to the small medic's side.

Worried? Who's worried?

"Twice?" he quizzes gently. "How did that happen?"