Glacius flinches back when Carlisle starts in on his tirade--anger is almost never a good way to respond to someone openly apologetic--but then he ultimately seems to decide to stand his ground. He's tired of the clergyman being so damn hard on himself when all he's done is try so hard to help others in this cave, when he's come to the alien's aid time and time again despite his own suffering. Did he have to make sure that the wounded warrior didn't bleed out after being freshly carved up by a demon? No. Did he have to expend the last of his energy to heal him after the alien failed to keep his guard up, despite knowing that malicious doubles were lurking about? No, but he did--and each and every time he treats himself like a failure it undermines the friendship that they have, that gets built up stronger by the things they go through together.

"Every... time," Glacius grits out, his voice getting caught up in a strange mixture that's part growl and part whine, made of equal parts pain, frustration, and determination. Speaking isn't getting any easier, but there are some things you that need to be spoken plainly. "You... save... me."