There was no way for Dax to know for sure what the fight was about or how bad it was, but Rook had his tells. Sure, the other man preferred not to talk about most things, but the way he was carrying himself and how hard he was going on that target told Dax that it was kind of serious this time. So, instead of doing what he normally did, he chose not to push. It might surprise Rook to think so, but Dax could recognize when pushing his friend to talk would only make things worse. Now was one of those times.
"Well, why don't you take a break from that poor target and come spar with me," he suggested. "Might make you feel better to try and beat the shit out of me, right?"
He turned back to his bag then, pulling out the handwraps he packed and began to wrap his hands. He'd ask Rook what happened after they'd worn each other out, but Dax was honestly not in a talking mood. It was unusual for him, and maybe if Rook were in a better state of mind he would recognize that Dax was also out of sorts, but Dax was counting on Rook not noticing. He could use this for now, then be a good friend later when he felt better.