Even through his fatigue, Carlisle picks up on Glacius' hesitation; he turns his tired eyes to the alien once more, the bags under them more prominent than they've ever been as he blinks a time or two, trying to clear his vision.

"W- why wouldn't I?" he asks in reply. His mind puts it together half a second later, and even through his exhaustion, his ire is evident. "What- what did he do?"

He tears his gaze from Glacius' face and surveys the alien himself, looking for any wounds, any signs, anything that would give him an answer.