Good old, reliable Bethen, always ready with a solution for everything. Feeling a swell of affection for Bethen's eternal (if sometimes begrudging) good nature, Constans levered himself to his feet and eyed his robes plaintively. "I hate to say it but I think they're ruined anyway, cut up like this. Unless you know a really great darning spell you could look up too," he tacked on with a feeble laugh.
Upon taking his first step to follow Bethen he lurched dangerously, forced to lean on the chair a moment before continuing with greater care. It occurred to him then that his current giddiness must have a lot to do with lightheadedness from blood loss, since wasn't as though he had any real excuse to be cheerful right now.
"Right, that sounds great."
Constans peered warily around the door before moving out into the open expanse of the hallway. He placed his left hand against the wall to support himself as he walked, looking pale, the bloodier hand clenched awkwardly at his side. For whatever reason he grew noticeably dour as he shuffled along, his previous unconcerned air rapidly fading to be replaced with a sober, thoughtful look.
As the pair neared the door to Bethen's dormitory Constans broke the silence to murmur, impulsively and with sincerity that surprised even him. "Bethen, if- if you get in any trouble because of this I'll absolutely hate myself. I'm really sorry I had to drag you into it." Unable to meet her eye, he shouldered open the door to slip into her quarters without waiting for a reply.