He leaned against him, scowling slightly. He hated admitting he needed the help keeping his feet. Of course he'd be fine. He always was. But he hadn't felt this weakened in a long time.
But oh, how he hated being rescued. "Was handling it, me," he muttered to his older self, well aware that he was lying through his teeth.
And the way those two talked to each other... What the hell was going on there?