Watching as keenly as she was then, she would have had to be blind not to see it - the white knuckle grip on his staff, the tension in his frame, the way he flinched like she had somehow wounded him with her concern.

Then, she winced just the same, and whatever tears she had managed to will away during their conversation fell from the corners of her eyes. She didn't understand the point of his stubbornness. What was the benefit to hurting himself and essentially telling her to just leave and let him do so? To help people? Even her own altruism had a physical limit that pushing past would hinder more than help.

"Please." She may as well have been begging; voice finally cracking. "I cannot just leave you. Surely you know that."