Well, Azon had to admit: he was impressed by the amount of optimism the man had for someone battling a concussion. Or….so he thought — because apparently miss Willadene gave him the all clear. A diagnosis that had the tundrarian tilting his head with deep skepticism.

Wait….really? It’s all fine up n’there? Azon asked, uncertain. Now Ignis might not have been the sharpest bag of cheddar in the dairy aisle, especially not compared to dr. Willa — but he was pretty sure that more than just a twig snapped by the time Fintan’s body collided with the earth. He wasn’t just saying that because he thought the self proclaimed “train engi-something” was a bit crazy, either. No, the general’s uncertainty came from genuine concern.

Lemme get a look at ya fer a sec...

The brows on his features furrowed as he focused. Suddenly, the pale titan was taking up space between them, using a forelimb to gently press against his ribs. The exact spot where he was sure he’d seen Fin collide with the ground. That don’t hurt at all, boy? Because if it didn’t, he’d be impressed. Azon could still feel the impact of his own fall aching the side of his ribs — but perhaps that’s because gravity made his heavy ass sink against the earth faster than a moving anchor.

To be light and nimble must’ve been a blessing. (Not that he’d trade these hard earned muscles for anything!)

His own gratitude didn’t even fully register with him until then, and the knight's mismatched gaze would widen a smidge at his words. Oh! He exclaimed, a sheepish grin of his own lining his face. Don’t mention it. Wolves don’t exactly belong in trees, so I didn’t mind fix’n that fer you. Stepping away a foot or two, Azon gave Fin some space to really look at him, and noticed something peculiar on the top of his head. Speakin’a which… he mentions, chucking his chin in the direction of his crown.

Surely you ain’t plannin’ on gettin’ stuck in anymore branches soon, right? Thought you would’a left that in the tree that almost hung ya…