"Hmmm... yeah... maybe.... I was told as much but still. When I see people getting hurt and dying, I want to do something to help other than heal them later. I get... angry." That dream he had, so detailed (the corridor, the smells, the bodies) and vivid still lurked in the back of his mind. He hadn't been fighting but the potential for danger had been there.
Josh shook his head to clear his thoughts and sat back to let the waitress place their food in front of them. He immediately grabbed the ketchup and poured it liberally over the fries along with a ton of salt. It wasn't good for him but dammit, he could clear his own veins if they started clogging from his diet. "I know I'm supposed to run and let other people handle the fighting but I'm an American and a good ol' Southern boy. We're told not to run from fights, but to stand up, face down our foes and give everything we've got. THEN run when we've got our asses licked."