Channing was fairly disheartened with the way Fang addressed him. His intentions were good in getting the necklace but that does not mean anything when there is more harm to be done given Selene was already tortured.
A quiet weight lingered behind his ribs, the kind that didn't come from words alone but from the realization that good intentions rarely survived contact with Fang's kind of urgency.
"What are you looking at my face for," Fang clicked his tongue, "square your shoulders, I need you to shut down your emotions until the end of this war its not just Selene's life but the existence of all the werewolves in question."
His voice carried that controlled edge, like every syllable had already been weighed and found too soft for the world they were standing in.
Channing felt it land anyway. Hard. Unavoidable.
