It was the first audible--painful, if only to hear--snap of breaking bone that arrested Chris's immediate attention to the complete disregard of all else, bringing him to his feet in the same instant that Blonsky hit the ground.

"Blonsky!" He was at the soldier's side in an instant, dropping to his knees for blood-soaked hands to hover at his shoulders in a moment of brief, blind panic before he rolled the older man onto his back. The lack of pain in Blonsky's expression (or his mastery over it, it was difficult to tell from an outside perspective) calmed him by a few degrees, but only some. Chris still leaned over him protectively, one hand at his collarbone, the other at his jaw, both inadvertently painting the soldier's skin red as the last vestiges of the transformation left him in their wake. "Blonsky. Hey, come on. A little warning? ...Are you okay?"