Glacius may be quiet and dodging the topic, but Carlisle is more furious than he can ever recall being -- and Glacius' avoidance only fuels the fire. His tired mind can't put it together, but he knows something must have happened, something terrible for the alien to question whether or not he'd want to go home. What had his double said? What had he done?

"I'll wring his neck myself when I find him," Carlisle seethes, his teeth bared, ink still dripping from him, his hand on his abdomen rather than his latest injury as he forces himself to his feet, using Glacius as a support. His eyes sharpen, creases carved heavily into his face from fury. "How dare he use my appearance against you! That the gods do this to us! Did he hurt you? Did he—"

Unfortunately, Carlisle's health can't keep up with the raging broil in his chest. Back to hacking he goes, his legs threatening to collapse beneath him as he wheezes for air.