[Just watching Kratos is painful, though Yuan isn't examining whether it's basic physical sympathy or some emotion more complex. He opens the door for Kratos, sweeps past to set the liberated basket on the kitchen counter before coming back, not expecting Kratos to have gotten far.]

[There are so many things wrong with him.]

There isn't much to be done for ribs but perhaps wrapping them, and certainly I intend to make you rest.

[What the hell is the impulse to reach for Kratos. Yuan knows perfectly well he can support himself. ... Probably; he's collapsed before with ribs and aches, though there are no stairs here.]

[The result is that Yuan eyes Kratos with something resembling suspicion for more than a few moments before holding out his hand again, in mute offer of assistance.]