[Yuan catches up to his own cognitive fault a moment later-- he'd just been planning, without thinking, to look after Kratos. Which he should have predicted would be rebuffed. Which is fine, really, he's not sentimentally attached to the idea of playing nurse to Kratos's stubborn self, but given how stiffly Kratos was moving, and the cracked rib...]

Not your hands, but your reach?

[He's thought about his modesty, thank you, Kratos. But-- usually Kratos isn't the one who cares, and while Yuan does appreciate the concession to his sensibilities, such as they are, it's a little odd.]

[Especially considering that Kratos has been 'pushing' himself enough that his leg buckled on stairs he can ordinarily handle.]

[Yuan does not turn around. His eyes narrow instead.]

I'd be happy to. What injury are you hiding?