César feels useless. Everyone else is part of a well-oiled machine. He pushes those thoughts aside; he's too new to be expected to pull the same amount of weight. Just like every new job.

He swallows when gestured to and grabs a chair, sitting down across from them. "César Salazar. I just arrived yesterday. I'm uninjured. Thanks to you and everyone else that fought last night to keep us safe. Thank you for saving my life."

With the pleasantries finished, worry unfolds across his face. "... That wound may need pressure..."