Makers, that was too easy. Yet another pang of concern washes through the alien, one that only goes stronger when he realizes that Carlisle is too weak to so much as undo the clasps of his outer layer. Chirping softly, Glacius extends one frozen hand towards the poor human's bloodied frame, his large fingers fighting briefly with the comparatively small clasps until he manages to undo them. The edges of the fabric come apart just in front of his shoulder, and the ice alien shifts his grip to catch it, urging the clergyman to sit forward briefly so that he can very carefully pull the vestment from his body the rest of the way. It gets folded up neatly and set on a nearby end table, and then the alien's attention is fully back on his friend. He doesn't need to know old sayings from Carlisle's world to realize that he looks like he could pitch over at any moment.

"Stay strong, Carlisle... stay with me," Glacius urges, worry and pity filling his hearts. He's trying to keep the human's attention, trying to offer him support as he seeks to keep him from passing out. "Do you need help with the rest, too?"