It takes a lot of self-control to bite back further cursing as the Inquisitor falls into his arms, but he does his best. As much panic as he feels, Jesse needs to stay calm. For both their sakes.

“C’mon now,” he says as he kneels, bringing Sen down along with him in a firm yet gentle grip. “I’ll try not to move too much if you won’t.” He tries for a bit of a joking tone, but it mostly falls flat with his worry lacing every word. He quickly tugs whatever clothes are in his way up to get a better look at the damage, years of practical field medicine experience rushing back to him.

“Whatever you do, stay awake. No time to be napping, you hear me?” He unbuckles his own armor quickly so he can get to the clothing underneath—specifically the scarf-like fabric he’d kept around his neck, which he now uses as a makeshift bandage.

“Sorry, this’ll sting—” he says, only giving Sen a moment of warning before applying pressure on the wound.

“Please tell me you’ve got some elfroot on you.”