"You okay, mate?" Jackson asks, one of the knights, as he polishes his sword with practiced ease.
Emrys flinches, not expecting Jackson to notice the distraught expression on his face.
Jackson's keen eyes catch the slight twitch of Emrys' brow and the tension in his shoulders.
Emrys shakes himself, attempting to dislodge the lingering worry, and forces a casual tone as he replies, "I'm fine."
He turns away, his hands moving with deliberate distraction through his belongings, pretending to be occupied by the mundane task.
Jackson, though often appearing aloof, has a perceptive side that catches Emrys off guard. "You don't seem fine," Jackson remarks, his voice carrying a hint of genuine concern as he continues to polish the blade with long, steady strokes.
"My grandma used to say that sharing your thoughts with others helps, y'know. Clears the mind."
