Rather than being handed off like a ragdoll, to a stranger no less... Carter grunted and stood when he was released, quickly leaning his right shoulder on a nearby wall for support. The colonel finally got a good look at Brandon then, finally recognizing the sour scent of burnt oil in the air. "Jesus..." He muttered quietly, gritting his teeth. "That's what I was afraid of... I hope he's not bad off as it looks, we don't have a surgeon here." With a short, grim laugh, he sighed and slid down the wall into a sitting position. "Then again... I've said that a few times... And they all made it. Let's hope I keep getting lucky."

"Good going Captain... You didn't just save one soldier out there." The older man congratulated Greg, giving him a wide smile. "I'd ask you to introduce her, but I'm sure she can speak for herself." Carter's attention went to the newcomer then, and nodded. "Colonel Schmidt at your service... But you are?..." He asked, intrigued. He'd seen that uniform somewhere... But couldn't quite place it. Maybe one of the Herc Mercs.