Tidus keeps that wide-eyed stare on Roland, as if frozen in his reaction by the hand on his arm, whatever action that would have followed delayed. But his brow shifts inward, bewildered, quizzical, slipping from the man's face over to his leg displayed when it's shown. The more haunted edges of Tidus's shock only becoming more visible under the better proof of the injury right under the table.

And with it, the words that bleed themselves into a noise that Tidus doesn't bother to process, his shock falls as Tidus himself does onto floor, dropping onto his knees, and any attempt to grab and pull on his arm and hand balancing him utterly ignored, even yanked back on. The same as Roland's excuses are dismissed, with Tidus drawling somewhere in the end of that too long, not listening spiel, "Shut uuuup."

'Cause hey, guess what, don't care. And his mood only heightens in heat as he brings up his dominant magic hand, the SCA still firmly around his left wrist, pyreflies and white lights glow and gathering as he makes the fist. Some sound like "dumbass...!" muttered from below.

...no, that was definitely it.

Now, is Roland going to struggle here as Tidus goes for his leg with this magic, or--