Inigo fusses back at Robin's fussing, trying to swat her away from assessment, "It's not so bad, honest! I'll be walking again by tomorrow. Sheeh, you're acting like my father. A sprain hasn't ever stopped me before."
Whether it happened showing off to an invisible audience in practice, or to impress a bar-brawl crowd, Robin doesn't need nor care to know. Accidents happen, and attempting to take away free-time causes of it would only lead to a different set of troubles from the troops. Still, a visit to the med tent is the last wish on her list when trying to prepare for battle in less than two day's time. She can't help but sound fretted when having to unexpectedly provide a readiness assessment to one of her best fighters (and one she's rather fond of).
"It never stops anyone, UNTIL IT DOES."
Grave warning yet falls flat and matter-of-fact from frowning lips. To continue saying anything harsher he would too easily take as a challenge. No, she kneels with a critical gaze focused only his ankle, and delivers cold truth in passing with a warm touch to the bandages there. [Not a cast, and vital energy flow isn't horribly disrupted. He's not sugarcoating for pride's sake.]
She'll have to trust a dancing soldier's sense of footing. He should be fine, but even with something little - one wrong twist is all it would take to take him down; they both know it.
She stands, with fingers and thumb spread open across her forehead. An imaginary terrain appears behind closed lids, the picture of Walhart's factions, and where they tend to place their axe wielders. Pitting him against slow movers that strike high gives him the best chance to not even have to block, and a wide, two-footed stance that would absorb mostly into arms and knees if he did.
"I'm not pulling you from anything, just asking you to be aware of temporary limits."
A furrowed brow and vein pulsing behind a clenched jaw makes clear her disappointment and frustration, but it's all inward turned. She only lifts her eyes to meet his before leaving, because the constant, looming possibility of never seeing someone again wins out over the shame that tells her she's not worthy to. To claim love for someone and yet consciously send them into danger is the highest atrocity…!
But she's always known that someone like her doesn't have the luxury of placing any one person's importance as higher than the whole objective.
"So you better be right, because I'll still be counting on you."
…
It's like ripping out one of her own ribs.
