Five turns back when Ben speaks, and looks at him like he's only now noticing that he's exhausted and dripping in blood. That takes him back, in a horrible way, to their childhood missions. It's hard to forget how Ben reacted then, and how much he would have preferred to prevent him having to go through it again.

His fault. Guilt chews away at his insides and he can't do more than agree with him.

Getting to his feet is more difficult than it should be, but he remembers he was irresponsibly drunk before he landed in the middle of all these murders. Death bothers him on a different level, more distaste than moral objection and he hates having to clean up after. He takes two steps before he lurches, and the moment Ben turns his head, he buckles over and throws up over the gore at his feet.

...What are the odds Ben didn't catch that? He feels better once he's done, though considerably dirtier.

"Yeah." Distract him by agreeing, even as it takes him a minute to straighten back up and uselessly wipe at the mess on his clothes. Five would rather bury the hound rather than leave it here to rot, he can't say his brother doesn't have a point. He doesn't want him caught up in any more crossfire. "I can... deal with it later."