"Roland's going to want a report." Bert addressed the gunslingers, grimacing as he pushed himself to his feet with an obvious effort. "You want to be careful letting him know you're alive, though. You might accidentally make him smile, and I don't think the world can take that."

His own smile broke through then, pain notwithstanding, and he limped past the Guardians to pull each of the surviving gunslingers into a hug, kissing them soundly on the cheek. "Fuck me, we were about to give up. We owe those damned dogs our gratitude, I guess." Then, looking down at his bloodied leg, he pulled a face. "Though I'll hold off on thanking them. Uh, anyone got anything by way of bandages?" It wasn't as messy as it might have been, but it was deep, and still oozing blood. By now, that was starting to tell; he felt a little woozy.