Where Halo was pacing Crux was rigid as a board, his gaze fixed on the direction the fighters had walked off in. He'd managed to keep up when they'd set out, somehow, something he was going to attribute to the adrenaline that his anxiety had provided. He'd helped manage a few wounds a few times now but he hadn't ever really been right there, and the sound of distant growls wasn't doing much to put him at ease. All of that plus the spectre of the rank he was seeking being dependant on his performance here was hanging over him, his own personal sword of Damocles. So yeah maybe he was in freeze mode right now, something he'd no doubt snap out of once the wounded started flowing in.
