Griffith doesn't turn to look at Guts before his shadow falls over him where he sits in the grass, and even then he only gives him a short nod before turning his attention back on the small wood figure he's making. It isn't turning out so good, this seems to be one thing he doesn't excel in.

"Hey, are you okay?" Guts voice is short and harsh as always, but this is the cue for Griffith to turn and smile at his friend, as brightly as he can possibly muster.

"I'm fine. Have a seat," he says, gesturing towards the empty spot by his side. Guts sits down without a word, leaning the sword against his shoulder as always.

They're quiet for a while, Griffith trying to turn a shapeless piece of wood into something resembling a hawk, Guts staring towards the horizon.

"Really sure you're okay?" Guts suddenly asks, glancing over at him quickly, then looking away again. Griffith turns the should-be hawk in his hands, stroking his fingers over the rough surface.

"Why? Are the men talking?"

"Nah, they don't think anything's wrong with you ever." There's a slight tone of amusement in his voice. "But you've seemed, I don't know, a bit down. Or something."

Guts is looking straight at him now. Griffith smiles again, what he hopes is an assuring smile.

"I've been a little tired. We've had our hands full. Sleep isn't my first priority when we're at disadvantage on the battlefield."

"So you'll be alright?"

"I'll be alright."

Guts nods and keeps staring at god knows what in the sky. The sun is setting, soon it will be too dark for Griffith to keep working on the wooden bird. He might as well stop now.

He glances over at Guts only to see the other man pick his nose, scrutinizing the find. There's no way he could stop the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

The sound makes Guts look sourly at him.

"You laughing at me?"

"No, at us."

Guts raises his eyebrows, giving him that look of confusion mixed with amusement Griffith has never seen him give anyone else.

"Okay. Have fun with that."

"I will."