Mac's obvious concern soothed his temper a bit, as did the gentle hands on his face and shoulder, but he was still annoyed at life for the time being. He didn't even bother to see what the man was doing with their prisoner, much more interested in briefly basking in the warmth of the fire and examining the solidity of Mac's shelter. He waved a hand absently to dismiss his partner's offer of food. Now that he was faced with a warm, dry place to curl up, the gnawing in his belly was something he could easily ignore.

And really? Berries? Couldn't Ghost flush out something with meat for Mac to kill?

Uldren stripped with no thought to his own modesty, scowling at his wet clothes. Where the hell was he supposed to put them to get dry? He tossed them in the general direction of Mac and their prisoner and crawled into the shelter, wrapping up tightly in the man's coat. With a sigh of relief he closed his eyes, slowly letting his muscles relax into the dry warmth of the fabric. His voice was barely more than a growl, but there was no real anger behind the words, which Mac should be able to figure out if he could tear himself away from the elf long enough to listen.

"If I wanted him dead, I wouldn't have gotten kicked and punched, now would I? Just do what you want with it and turn it loose someplace far away from me." He cracked one eye to glare at Mac and hiss, curling tighter in his improvised bedding, "And I swear to god if you start fucking it you'll only wish you were dead!"