The environment, his rescuer, everything in the vicinity ranks lower on the scale of personal priority compared to the rampant shivering, the constriction of blood vessels and the frailty of extremities. It's - fuck, he has to process this. He has to -

Rush lifts his head in search of his unexpected savior, only to find -

"What the fuck are you doing?"

The words explode in a strained amalgamation of disbelief, horror, panicked fury. What the fuck is he doing?