He's left breathing hard, glaring at the wreckage in front of them. This is atrocious. It's not what's meant to do. He's supposed to scatter his enemies, not be on the backfoot. This wretched portal is making a mockery of him-

Ah. Alacruun drags himself back to the present with a low hiss and then another sudden inhale and he glances down at Six, rolling the wounded arm experimentally, "I... think I'm well enough. Injured, but not seriously. It will need treatment, though."

There is a pause, as if he's considering something.

"You have my thanks."