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Kyrel jerked his head around to see the pair of healers return, his face flushed with anger only darkening a shade when Aru asked for an explanation. "I-- uh, well, you see we were just-- talking," he answered haltingly, a poor liar, though it wasn't entirely untrue.
The hand Cremsden set on his shoulder drew the boy's attention, but his eyes returned instead to the rude rider. Wisely he kept further thoughts about Z'go's behavior to himself, but he did stand a little straighter, a little taller, knowing they had his back.
Cremsden might not have heard anything but he could read expressions and body language well enough. The hand he set on Kyrel's shoulder had two purposes; an attempt to steady the boy and a reminder to Z'go that Kyrel was not actually alone.
"No matter either way," he said, deliberately calm as though he had completely failed to notice any issue. "Brownrider Z'go, you've injured yourself?" Because sometimes switching to formal reminded someone that there was proper behaviour here.
If he had not been in pain at that very moment, there is no doubt in Z'go's mind that he would've seen red and probably swung at the kid, healer, candidate or whatever he fecking was, regardless of the consequences. Ironically, it was a moment of clarity for the brownrider who, now hearing the sets of two pairs of feet coming closer, replied with a snort, "Suit yourself, threadsucker." Z'go would remember, though. Kyrel? He'd remember.
"There he is!" announced Aruithil as she and Cremsden came into view of Z'go and Kyrel. "Kyrel, we went to the cots first, why didn't you take him?"
Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the work?
Baldrick: The servants.
Blackadder: No, me; *I'm* the people who do all the work.