The furrow between Luke's brows deepens slightly at Ellis' stumbling over words. "Almost got mauled myself back there." He admits, grimly sympathetic. "…Wasn't too sure I'd make it back in one piece."

And had he not had been hauled back to shelter, stripped of his drenched clothes, and all efforts been made to keep him from drifting quietly into death, he knows he wouldn’t have been here to have this conversation. He's one of the lucky few granted a second chance at life -- but he knows this luck won't hold forever.

He blinks slowly, surfacing from his thoughts.

“M'sorry ‘bout your friend.” Luke says after a long moment, his voice a low, soft thing, toneless. It hangs heavily in the air, a seemingly unfinished thought. But nothing else comes.