He's not gonna die in the snowbank, there were like 40 people rubbernecking, someone's going to pick him up.

Wynonna--

[ God. Fuck. Feelings again, rearing their ugly head. March needs a smoke. He has no smoke. He winds up smoothing his facial hair out, tone softening as much as it can, considering how annoyed and worried he is. ]

--If I can't die doing something stupid than you can't either, alright?