It takes a moment to find a word, another to force it out. Not because he doesn't know Cassian, but because his voice doesn't want to obey, because words are so hard, a torrent or a drought, nothing in between. He doesn't run, but he cringes where he stands, twisting his hands in his hair with the need to move. "C-captain." It's often how he thinks of Cassian, not that he's ever said it that way. His eyes are as glassy from fever as from fear as they lock on the hand and he tries to force himself to move to take it, because clearly it's expected and he doesn't dare do anything wrong. His own hand won't obey.