It's one thing too much. Just one thing-- and it's nothing new, it makes sense for Roland to offer it, sure. But Tidus stands there with eyes on the club offered, thick and sturdy and too heavy for human hands to handle easily, and the hesitation that stirred in him each time before grounds him this time, sticking him in place like glue. He's stuck, and his mouth opens just to simply brush it away -- or even, to say Roland's name -- but it's difficult.

Just say, You can keep it. Don't make a deal out of this. Don't get worked up over nothing. His fingers twitch at his sides, and his mouth opens again - "I..." - on a struggled word.

He kicks it out a second time, frustrated and unsure as it sounds. "You shouldn't keep helping me."

It's abrupt, and he doesn't add to it, or explain. Almost chiding in its delivery, a reprimand.