"Since two seconds ago," Ghent joked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. It wasn't far from the truth. He never took the initiative if he could help it. It was easier to have somebody else in charge.  
	He didn't say anything when Elayra opted for his wrist rather than his hand, he was just glad she accepted help for once. Rising, he allowed her to hang onto his wrist as much, or little, as she needed to. He waited until she was on her feet, and even then he didn't move away. He nearly expected her to collapse.
	"All good?" Ghent tried to sound casual, as if Elayra had merely skinned her knee. Inwardly, he was panicking. What if she had a concussion? Was she bleeding? Head injuries weren't something to be taken lightly.
	"You took a bad hit," he reminded, his indirect way of telling her not to overdo it. "So...if it's hard for you to keep up, just say so...and, uh..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "We'll...figure something out." 
	For the sake of time and personal safety, Ghent left it at that. As far as he could tell, Elayra didn't have a concussion. She seemed a little banged up, but well enough to move. At least nothing had been broken. He didn't want to think about what would happen then.
	"Sorry about the wait, Margen," Ghent gave him a thumbs up, thankful their guide's patience hadn't run out. "Lead the way, we'll be right behind you."