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Sondo nodded, inwardly skeptical. Did Falco really think he might make it all the way there without help? Too proud for his own good, he decided, rather hypocritically. In fact, as he led the way toward their arranged meeting place, Sondo became irked. Why wouldn’t Falco just admit that he was tired and his legs were in terrible condition? Sondo would have been more than willing to aid Falco, help support him; but no, Falco had to determinedly go on by himself. And go slowly. Sondo wondered how long it would be before Falco could keep up with a regular pace - if they had to go this rate all the time, they would never get home. Then again, this was Falco he was thinking about; of course Falco would have to be difficult. He always had been.
Guilt pricked at the back of Sondo’s mind. Maybe you haven’t forgiven Falco as much as you thought, his conscience nagged. You’re being more than a little unfair. Weren’t you just thinking that Falco was your friend, after all?
They’re valid concerns Sondo protested weakly. However, his conscience won out. They had walked perhaps a third of the distance when it became obvious to Sondo that Falco had absolutely no intention of asking for help, whether he needed it or not. He stopped and turned to face Falco.
“Look, Falco,” he said sighing. “No offense, but it’s pretty clear that you’re having a hard time. We were friends, once, and we could be still. Do you want some help? There’s still quite a way to the meeting place.”
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