He’d seek them all out himself if he absolutely had to. He’d remain with them no matter the moment it came down to (especially the last), or the decisions they had to ultimately make. Hand pressed against his own wrist between lapses of focused time to remind himself that there was indeed a heartbeat there. A feeling that pulsates with a certain vibrant fervor beneath his fingertips that’d often remain marvelously life affirming. In their final moments back on the battlefield where they’d lay to rest, devastatingly so. 

  He wasn’t a touchy guy otherwise.