Roland was just about to laugh at Tidus, just about to question his dour mood, just about to get the ball rolling with something that wasn't related to the mission, but instead all he could do was tighten his fist and hold back a wince threatening to break out. As Tidus slumps further and further back against his seat, his legs slowly inches closer to Roland's offending cut. There isn't exactly any wiggle room for him to evade, and so before Tidus' foot can hit his boot on the floor, it jerks against the injury, grazing it with the tip of his shoe.

It wasn't the most pleasant feeling, but it wasn't a grave or fatal injury. Far from it! So he keeps up his facade, clearing his throat before speaking up to dovetail Tidus' question.

"Just my boot." He doesn't even look down, doesn't glance from under the table so as not to give Tidus any reason to do so. "You try digging for a week straight and let's see if your feet aren't going to kill you by the end of it, heh."