If he'd gotten shot, so be it. He was worried sick, scared, and seeing Harry like this, seeing him start to go down, that was all that he had been afraid of.

"Oh bloody hell," he said, rushing in to try and lend Harry a hand. "Who the hell do you think sent me to bring you back?"

Which Harry had to have known as well. And yet...

"No glasses. No phone. Nicked the car I came here in. This is the suit you had tailored for me. I never mentioned I had it when they fitted me for the Kingsman suit to go after Valentine. It's as clean as I can be Harry, but I don't know if it's clean enough."

He sighed, shaking his head. "He's not leaving an agent with your skills and with your memory loss on the street, Harry. I don't report back, and Lancelot is on her way."