Hizashi can only stare, petrified and heart thumping over any sound waves, as Hitoshi brings his hand up, quickly wiping off the blood. It doesn't accomplish anything other than drag it all over his cheek as more follows, carving a line over his mouth and down his chin. He pauses with his brow fur tilted down, staring at his bloodied fingers in bafflement while the front of his garment gets stained red.

It's only when Hitoshi mutters a human curse, tilting his head down and pinching his nose to stop the stream, that Hizashi snaps out of his shock.

"Shouta!" He starts cawing urgently, as high pitched as he can so his mate will hear him. "Shouta!"

"It is okay," Hitoshi lies, pupils darting toward the hatch. He bares his teeth in an attempt to reassure Hizashi. His gums are red from the blood that managed to get in his mouth. Or maybe his upper palate's cracked open, leaking blood and brain out in the open. "I go clean up in the washing room."

Shouta runs back with the portable medrepair right as Hitoshi gets up, hand cupped under his nose to keep the blood from staining the floor, as if that's what he should be concerned about.

Protests fill the room as they try to sit him back down to get a better look at his injury, but Hitoshi walks past them with a determined stride. Hizashi doesn't dare hold onto Hitoshi too hard, not when his friend's already jostling whatever injury he sustained, but he can't let him hide out in the washing room.

"Hitoshi, please listener," Hizashi begs when he manages to block his path. There's so much blood; it overflows and seeps between Hitoshi's fingers, leaving a trail behind him. "Come to the med bay."

Shouta's pushing Hitoshi the right way, nudging him with his scarf and grabbing his shoulders to turn him. He's pointing the portable medrepair at Hitoshi, but the latter is moving too much.

Hitoshi exhales loudly while twisting to avoid the medrepair, much to Hizashi's dismay. "This is only a blood nose. It is normal."

"You've bled like this before?" Shouta asks, faltering in his steps. His nose is tucked in the inner loops of his scarf to keep the smell at bay.

"No, but—"

Hizashi cuts him off, tugging on his friend's garments. "Then we should check it out." When Hitoshi hesitates, Hizashi pleads, "For me?"

Hitoshi caves with a huge exhale. They all shuffle to the med bay, where Hizashi urges Hitoshi to lay down on the cot while Shouta preps the scanner and the beam. Hitoshi's base profile leaves to be desired, but it should be enough for this, because if it isn't, Hizashi doesn't know what other option they have other than holding the closest coven of healers hostage until they help Hitoshi.

Hitoshi has to let go of his nose for the scan. Blood spurts out onto the cot, spreading around Hitoshi's head. Hizashi holds his breath as the scanner passes over Hitoshi's upper body, stopping under his ribcage before scanning back up—

—and loosens in relief when it shows that, apart from a few strained muscles, all bones are intact and that, more importantly, the blood is coming from a small burst vessel and not from his brain.

Hizashi's so relieved, he can't help but skip back to Hitoshi's side to card his talons through his fur with reassured chirps. He takes the occasion to glance in Hitoshi's ears for any trace of cerebrospinal fluid. It's not that he doesn't trust the med scanner, but better safe than sorry.

(Empty nest sickness is hard on the soul, but that's something that can be recovered from. A scrambled brain? Not so much.)

"Told you I am fine," Hitoshi grumbles, before scrunching his furbrows when he realizes he can't talk without letting go of his nose. Hizashi lifts the upper part of the cot so Hitoshi isn't laying down when he notices him display signs of discomfort.

He moves away—not before squeezing Hitoshi's upper limbs in reassurance—to gather gauze and disinfectant while the beam does its work. As the spurting blood trickles to a slow stop, he takes the opportunity to wipe the blood that managed to get on him. It doesn't take much time at all; only his talons and the base of his primary coverts are flecked with browning blood, and he only needs to pop his talon sheaths off and replace them with clean ones.

Hitoshi's a whole other story; he's covered in a worrying amount of red. It's smeared everywhere, making it difficult to estimate the amount he lost. He probably isn't going to go into hypovolemic shock, right? He's breathing well and his fingers aren't cold when Hizashi brushes his wings over them.

"Sorry, listener. I was just worried." He gives Hitoshi some wet gauze and takes Hitoshi's left hand to help wipe him down faster. "I really thought you were hurt."

Hitoshi breathes out loudly, but accepts the apology. He looks away, pinching the clean gauze with the tip of his talons. "I go wash. I do not need this."

"You don't have to worry about wasting supplies, you know?" Hizashi knows he guessed the source of his friend's reluctance when Hitoshi's shoulders lift around the side of his neck. "They're there to be used."

Hitoshi's lower lip juts out as he pouts at the ceiling. It's such an odd image, what with the bloody mess, that Hizashi's feathers automatically flare out at the weird sight.

When Hitoshi doesn't move to wipe his face, Hizashi reluctantly adds, only to erase the guilty face his friend is making, "They're reusable. We'll just throw them in the sterilizing tumbler and they'll be good as new."

Hitoshi gives the gauze one last considering look before he finally starts cleaning his face. Hizashi ignores the visceral wrongness when he bares his teeth to show Hitoshi he's pleased with him. He is rewarded with tilted lips in return.

"Do you know why you started bleeding? The shearing force couldn't have been the only factor; otherwise, you'd have cerebral bleeding too."

Hizashi winces at Shouta's blunt words, but they don't bother Hitoshi. His friend balls up the dirtied gauze, humming as he thinks about it. "I think it is too hot? It is very dry on your planet. Sorry."

Dry? His blood vessel broke because it was dry?

"There's no reason to apologize, listener!" Alright, so Humans being able to withstand any temperature was, while not a lie, perhaps an exaggeration. He mentally changes their trajectory to get to healer Chiyo faster; Hitoshi could benefit from Shouta's nasal sprays if they visit a dry place again. "Is the ship's temperature still alright?"

"Yes." Under Hizashi's stern look, Hitoshi adds, aggravated, "I promise, it is alright."

"Good," Hizashi says, patting Hitoshi's elbow. He holds up a waste basket so Hitoshi can throw his wads of bloodied gauze. "Let's just do another scan, okay?"

The initial panic has abated, but Hizashi's heart's still beating a little too fast and some part of him keeps waiting for Hitoshi to drop dead any click now. Hizashi had not expected his friend's fleshiness to make his instincts recoil so sharply, his primal brain so certain he's dealing with an injured hatchling still lacking their protective plumage. He starts up a full body scan while he rereads the previous scan's reading, in case the machine missed something.

The first scan hasn't picked up any bruising or lesions on Hitoshi's brain, and there isn't any sign of internal bleeding. He tilts his head when he sees there's some inflammation around Hitoshi's gums. Going through the previous readings show there has always been some fluctuating small amount of swelling there, but it's more marked now.

A small flashing light alongside a repeated vibration indicates the full body scan is done. He pins his observation before opening the new reading, eyes skimming through to search for any life threatening injuries. When he doesn't find any, he goes through it again more carefully. Shouta's doing the same, his head hovering above Hizashi's shoulders.

Hizashi caws in surprise when he sees the small line fractures on the human equivalent of metatarsals, right at the second and third. "Hitoshi, how are you even walking?"

Hitoshi, having sat back up, stops kicking his lower limbs idly. "What do you mean?"

"Your feet!" Hizashi exclaims, gesturing at Hitoshi wildly. "You've got broken bones, listener."

Hitoshi squints at him in disbelief. He not so discreetly presses his feet against each other and blinks in surprise. "Oh."

"Yeah 'oh'." Hizashi's feathers are ruffled into a mess. "How did this even happen?"

"Don't know," Hitoshi mumbles.

Hizashi refrains from shaking Hitoshi for more answers. Healing first, questions later. He doesn't know how long Hitoshi has been in constant pain for, but it can't have been fun for him. "Lie back down, let's get you fixed up. Can you take them off or will it hurt too much?"

Hitoshi's face scrunches up in what Hizashi suspects is an impressive scowl. Taking Hizashi's question for the challenge it isn't, he tugs the feet wear off before Hizashi can tell him to be gentle.

They don't look too bad. They aren't deformed more than they already are, and there are only a few reddened parts where Hitoshi's scaleless skin rubbed on the feet wear material.

A suspicion pops its head. "Is it because of the feet wear? Were they too tight?" Guilt trickles down the back of his throat. He knew they weren't exactly the most comfortable, but he didn't think they were enough to break bones. Hitoshi's hands are a little damp when he grabs them. "I'm so sorry, we'll find better feet wear next time we —"

"No," Hitoshi interrupts, shaking Hizashi off. He's holding the feet wear in a possessive grip. "I like them a lot, thank you."

Hizashi wants to ask more questions, but his friend is tense and twitchy, and more importantly, he's been in constant pain for who knows how long. "Let's get you all healed up."

Hizashi goes to start the med repair, a bit frazzled and fraying at the ends, when he notices Shouta hasn't moved away from the reading screen. His mate's scarf is writhing in agitation, his tail swishing left-right, left-right.

"Shouta?"

Instead of answering, Shouta walks up to Hitoshi. He gestures to his lower limbs. "Can you lift your garments?"

Hitoshi hesitates before doing so. Hizashi squawks, taken aback by the sight. His skin is covered in red dots, alongside uneven bruising blotches over his thighs. The red dots are situated at the base of curly fur, some of them bumpy looking.

"What is that?" Hizashi goes to touch, but stops himself right before he makes contact. His wings hover over the hurt skin. "When did this happen?"

Hitoshi pulls his garment back down, squirming on the cot. "It is fine, it does not hurt."

"Hitoshi, this isn't normal." It looks painful. Hizashi hopes Hitoshi's not downplaying it; otherwise, the fabric from Hitoshi's garments would have been torture. He asks, uncertain and suddenly overwhelmed by how much they don't know about Humans, "Unless it is?"

The tiny speck of hope he was holding onto is crushed when Hitoshi doesn't answer immediately. He doesn't give his friend time to elaborate a reassuring lie. "Do you know why it happened?"

"I don't know. It just happens."

"Did you bump any object? What about your feet?" Shouta pauses, his tail swishing once in discomfort, and then his gestures go soft and gentle. It's Eraserhead that asks, "Did something happen back at the flock?"

Hizashi can't help the slight, impercible to anyone but his closest people, twitch. The only people they've been in close contact with, other than his mate and himself, is his flock. While he doesn't think they'd ever do something like this, Hizashi knows it's important to question the source of Hitoshi's injuries.

(No matter what Hitoshi says, there's no good answer. Either Hitoshi's been hurt by someone Hizashi knows or he's taken by an unknown sickness.)

"You can tell me," he croons reassuringly when Hitoshi's eyes dart toward him to assess his reaction. He looks uneasy. Almost scared.

It makes Hizashi angry thinking about it. Hitoshi's sturdy; it'd have to be a Singer, someone who can make organic tissue vibrate at just the right frequency to break them. Did it happen when Hitoshi was running away from the other flock? Hizashi wouldn't put it past them; they had no qualms trying to injure a nestling after all. A stranger is easy compared to that .

He grabs Hitoshi's hands. They're lukewarm to the touch, twitching slightly at the first contact before going slack. "Whoever hurt you was wrong to do so."

"No!" Hizashi jolts at Hitoshi's brusque gesture, but settles back into his open expression, wings held loosely to his side, head tilted to the right to show he's ready to listen. After a few clicks where Hizashi doesn't react, Hitoshi signs more calmly, although his mouth is thin and white, "No one did this. My feet hurt before." His eyes are squinted at Hizashi, like he's daring him to contradict his statement. "And the red appears like this a little bit at a time, some cycles before we go visit your flock. I thought it will disappear if I wait."

Hitoshi at least has the decency to be sheepish when he says it, but Hizashi still wants to scream. At this rate, all of his feathers are going to fall off from the stress and he only just regrew them. And sure, it's great that no one was responsible for these injuries, not his flock nor the other one, but it means Hitoshi's sick. Any heartache he's been spared from is instead replaced by bubbling worry.

Hizashi looks towards Shouta. a small twitch of the ear, eyes darting toward Hitoshi, feathers flaring lightly; they both agree that seeing healer Chiyo is now a priority.

"Document it before we heal it." Shouta passes Hizashi his padd.

Hitoshi looks highly uncomfortable, but he agrees to stay still while Hizashi takes pictures of his lower limbs. They look for more of the worrying dots and find a few under Hitoshi's collarbones and on his stomach, but most are contained to his calves and thighs.

The exercise program will wait. Hizashi doesn't want Hitoshi to physically exert himself, and they'll quiz him more on the life conditions on his home planet. They should have been more careful, shouldn't have put as much trust in Humans' reputed durability. They can't go through every protocole usually employed for new space faring species, but there are a few that Hizashi is ashamed to say they've ignored, simply because of Hitoshi's Deathworlder status. It's a mistake he plans to rectify.

In the meantime, they'll make meals Hitoshi enjoys best. He'll need to eat more, to replenish the blood loss and gain more energy for a better recovery.

At least, Hitoshi isn't in any critical condition, or else the med scan would have caught it. He isn't going to die suddenly. Hizashi reassures himself with that fact, and he manages to push the concern down into a more manageable size.

Of course, that's when the med repair beam flashes red and powers down.

"What's happening?" While the ones around his thighs have mostly healed, the other red lesions are still there. And if those haven't been healed, Hizashi can't imagine that the broken bones have magically repaired themselves. Shouta's already tapping at the panel to find what the malfunction is about. Hizashi pulls the panel closer to him, but he can't read the flittering words fast enough. "Is the medrepair broken?"

His bondmate's tail flick in confusion.

"Nothing's wrong with it. Hitoshi's body doesn't have enough resources in reserve to heal everything." Shouta touches Hitoshi's upper limb gently. "Do you have any idea why? Are you not eating enough?"

"I eat fine." Even through the defensiveness, Hizashi can sense the first undercurrent of his friend's worry. Which is not reassuring. At all.

It's probably not the amount he's eating. Although Hitoshi's features are still Deathworlder sharp, he's been gaining weight at a steady pace, Hizashi and Shouta made sure of it.

"Do you think it's connected to your bleeding nose?" Hizashi asks, wings fretting over Hitoshi. His vessels didn't break like this before, even when they were both thrown on the wall back with the—the Feczoits. "Not enough material could have weakened your vessels and bones. It could be why all of this is happening."

It's a possibility Hizashi doesn't want to be true. The smaller vessels don't carry enough blood to be life threatening when treated quickly, but if a bigger vessel breaks…

He doesn't even want to think about what would happen if Hitoshi's skin's integrity is weakened enough to split open. All of his internal organs could just fall out.

"Sorry." Hitoshi picks at the brooch holding his belt nervously. His pupils are fixed on a spot on the cot. "I do not know why my lower limbs are like that."

"We're going to find out what's wrong," Hizashi promises, injecting as much conviction as he can into his words. "We're going to see a healer soon. You'll be all right."

Hitoshi agreement-shakes his head, before he swings his hind limbs off the cot and signs, "Okay, I will go wash now."

"Ah, wait!" Hizashi searches through a storage drawer, crowing when he finds their old hover stretcher. "Sit on this."

He brushes away some of the dust that somehow managed to escape their very expensive ventilation system. When he looks up, Hitoshi's face has gone white.

Hitoshi's unknown sickness is on the forefront of his mind, which is why he doesn't think before reaching quickly toward Hitoshi, too caught in the belief an aorta just burst and his friend's currently bleeding out internally.

He realizes his mistake when Shouta warns him, but it's too late. Hitoshi flinches back, wide eyed and his teeth almost bared into a snarl, so very different from his almost-shy-pleased teeth-showing.

Hitoshi quickly closes his mouth, but the deep set fear hasn't abated. He's breathing faster, short pants that showcase the stress he's under. Hizashi slows his gestures down to a crawl, while he thinks of anything that might have provoked such a reaction. It's his turn to go into mission mode. "Hey, you're okay. Everything is alright, there's no danger here."

When Hitoshi's pupils latch onto him, Hizashi asks, "Are you in pain?"

Hitoshi's head does a half-aborted gesture. He closes his mouth for a brief moment, letting it fall back slightly open after a click. He shakes a little when he signs, "No."

Shouta waves his scarf to get Hitoshi's attention. When he gets it, Hitoshi barely flinching at the movement, Hizashi's mate places a jelly pack on the cot near Hitoshi's thigh. "Here, eat this. It's good."

Hitoshi looks a little baffled when he picks it up, even if he's been subject to Shouta's odd comfort before. He's breathing more normally, which Hizashi knows Shouta will take as further confirmation his method of calming people works; he's read somewhere that eating tricks the brain into relaxing and has taken to giving out snacks to agitated people when he can, but Hizashi's pretty sure his bondmate's successes are mostly due to people being snapped out of their spiralling panic because of their confusion.

"Do not want to go on that," Hitoshi signs with the tip of the jelly pack in his mouth. He's got a death grip on it, so much so that a bit of the jelly spills out the side of the nozzle. He repeats, more firmly, "No."

"Okay," Hizashi signs carefully. "What about the stretcher bothers you?"

He adds quickly when Hitoshi's shoulders go up, "We aren't going to force you on it. I just want to know so I don't hurt you again."

Hitoshi leans slightly away from Hizashi and Shouta. His brow fur is scrunched up as he thinks it over. After a few clicks of tension, he deflates a little. "That. I do not like."

He's gesturing toward the straps meant to prevent the injured person on the stretcher from falling off it.

"Because your feet are injured and we can't heal them, we really don't want you to aggravate your injury." Hitoshi looks like he wants to protest, but Hizashi continues when his friend doesn't actually sign anything. "If I take the straps off, do you think you'd be okay with the stretcher? We can find another solution if not."

"...okay," Hitoshi signs hesitantly. He tenses when Hizashi's talons touch the straps. It breaks Hizashi's heart into tiny pieces to see his friend like this, holding his breath and so afraid. On a whim, he cuts through the straps. The unusable scraps go in the disassembly bin, for the material to either be reused or discarded at a later date.

Shouta comes back with thick blankets, having exited the room without Hizashi taking notice. He places them over the thin stretcher's cot, folding them under so they don't slip off.

They help Hitoshi on it after he gives his assent. Hizashi's pleased when Hitoshi doesn't react negatively. His face does go pink in embarrassment when he realizes he has to be pulled by Shouta until they find a way for him to move around by himself. Humans having only two walking limbs, Hizashi finds, doesn't offer much spare room for injuries.

They head to the wash room with one of Hitoshi's spare garments, the Afs'A's ones they found back on the clipper, careful to avoid the sticky red-brown blood dotting the floor. When they get there, Shouta places the garments in a corner.

Hizashi pulls out a mat he places in the sonic washer so Hitoshi can sit down. He shows his friend how to change the stretcher's height and helps him down on the mat.

Hitoshi insists he doesn't need the help, but he presses into Hizashi's wings and doesn't try to move by himself, so Hizashi knows he doesn't really mind the fretting. He deserves to be cared for, especially when he's injured.

Hizashi and Shouta are about to give Hitoshi some privacy—Hizashi will stay near to, of course, guard Hitoshi, but also because his friend has been spurting out blood from his nose not even a few feeps ago , there's no way he'll leave Hitoshi completely alone for the next cycles— when Hitoshi signs, "I will clean the floor."

"We have sweepers for a reason," Shouta signs flatly. "Clean up. You smell."

Without leaving Hitoshi a chance to reply, Shouta shuts the hatch in his face.

"Shouta!"

His mate huffs as he starts up the sweepers, sending one toward the pilot area and the other toward the medbay. "He's fine."

Hizashi swats his mate's tail, who responds in kind by whipping his tail and not-so-accidentally making Hizashi eat fur. Hizashi's given no assistance other than mocking bared teeth as he spits out long strands of fur. It's an attempt at levity. It works, mostly.

The strong burst of vibration through the wall tells Hizashi Hitoshi has started the sonic washer. Shouta signs. "I've only heard of bleeding noses in the context of traumatic incidents. Or when kits somehow get small sharp objects up their nose. Although Hitoshi's nose is shaped oddly," he muses. "There could be more air flow and turbulence, which would make his mucous membrane more vulnerable to irritation."

Hizashi twists the idea around. While he wants to latch onto it, it doesn't explain his other wounds. He's grateful Humans have a fast coagulation time.

The sonic washer turns off. Hizashi tap-tap-taps on the hatch and is satisfied when an echoed tap-tap-tap answers him back.

"Can't you feel him moving?" Shouta asks. His scarf touches Hizashi' front, worrying at his feathers with a concerned tilt of his head. "Are you having trouble hearing?"

One of the sweepers—the one from the pilot area— comes back, its almost-silent hum through the floor announcing its presence. It rolls toward its docking station, disappearing behind the sliding door at the base of the wall.

Hizashi strokes Shouta's limb to soothe his mate's worry. "I'm all good. It's to let him know I'm here."

Shouta softens and leans down to nuzzle the side of his face. He rumbles against Hizashi's temple when Hizashi pushes his ears to watch them flick back into position a few times. His mate's vibrations soothes some of his dread.

The hatch opens and out steps Hitoshi, unbloodied and very much alive, with the now relatively clean rectangle cloth draped over his upper limb. His shoulders are down and his features are soft. "I can help with the blood on the ground now."

He's pulling the stretcher instead of sitting on it. Hizashi rectifies the error with a lot of squawking and a scolding.

He's interrupted when the other sweeper comes back at that moment. Hitoshi stares at it, unblinking as he tracks its path. Hizashi's mind conjures the image of Lamp stalking pest.

Hizashi takes Hitoshi's hand and pulls lightly, breaking the staring spell. "Come on, let's go to the share room. I want to teach you a new game!"

Hitoshi looks back at the clean floor where the sweeper stops rolling as it senses Hitoshi's stretcher in the way, scanning to calculate its new route. Hizashi's pretty certain Hitoshi has seen them before. It's the main reason why he doesn't think Hizashi will launch himself at the sweeper to destroy it. And then, in a twist Hizashi couldn't have predicted, Hitoshi blinks a few times as he uses the wall to push himself away. He signs at the sweeper, "Sorry."

When it goes back to its docking station, Hizashi manages to shake enough of his bewilderment to string words in a sentence. He asks, glancing toward Shouta for an answer, who seems as clueless as Hizashi, "You know the sweepers aren't sentient, right? They're machines."

Hitoshi fixes him with a puzzled expression, as if he isn't the one who talked to a sweeper. "Yes, I know." While Hizashi tries to derive meaning from that answer, Hitoshi asks, "You teach me the new game or…?"

"I—yes, yeah, of course."

Hizashi brings out the game, introduced to him by Toshinori back when they didn't trust him to immediately report back to the Commision. He had been under a probation period and it had been Hizashi's turn to try and gleam as much information out of him as possible under the guise of friendly conversation.

Shouta sits to Hitoshi's right. He's blinking lazily, but his eyes track Hitoshi's nose and his gaze is sharp when he asks, "Why did you apologize to the sweeper if you know it isn't sentient?"

"I was in the way."

Hizashi and his mate wait for the rest of the explanation before realizing Hitoshi has already moved on to inspect the playing chips.

Does Hizashi have to worry about Hitoshi packbonding with the sweepers?

He ruffles his feathers. Unless Hitoshi bonding with the sweepers is a sign that he has a brain injury, Hizashi has more important things to worry about. "Do know why you have your injuries?"

Hitoshi looks up with an annoyed squint. "No. I am fine."

"But are you sure?"

Hitoshi puts the chips he was inspecting down loudly. His eyes go wide at his own abrupt gesture, before frustration floods back. "I'm not a liar."

Silence follows his statement, lengthening when Hizashi has to take the time to rule in his irritation. He's not being unreasonable for worrying about a literal blood vessel exploding for no reason. Who can blame him for pushing for a more concrete answer? It's not like Hitoshi has been very forthcoming about his previous injuries, anyone would be doubtful about his answers.

The tension is broken by the mèos, who run into the room side by side. Lamp bumps Engine back into a straight trajectory when she wobbles to the side. They jump around, hopping over Shouta's tail and sliding under Hizashi's wings. Hizashi takes the opportunity to settle his feathers back down and reign his temper.

Hitoshi gathers the chips in a pile, shooting Hizashi and Shouta an apologetic glance from under his eyelid fur. Traces of Hizashi's irritation cling stubbornly, but he doesn't feel like shaking Hitoshi until some sense enters his body anymore.

Thinking back to Hitoshi's expression, when he first saw the stretcher, makes any irritation go up in smoke. He whistles a few notes to indicate that he's sorry, that he won't push Hitoshi for the rest of this cycle, at the very least.

A furred tail twins around his own. Hizashi turns some of his talon sheaths around. He might get more answers next cycle, after they're more rested and Hitoshi isn't coping with the aftermath of his scare. Hitoshi's small outbursts aren't frequent, but they've happened enough in the cycles leading to his flock's meeting that Hizashi isn't unfamiliar with them.

Hizashi is starting to suspect Hitoshi being in constant pain might have played a role in that.

The longer Hizashi doesn't say anything, the more Hitoshi's shoulders creep up. Hizashi closes his eyes briefly, smothering the guilt rising yet again, before launching into explaining the rules for the chip game.