Really, it worked both ways. Adam liked his independence and his freedom and all that, but the apartment was way too big for one person. And if he was perfectly honest, there was always something weirdly reassuring about Ronan's presence, like those nights when he crashed on the floor of the tiny apartment in St Agnes. He wasn't going to overthink it.

But at the exclamation - more one of surprise and actual distress than the usual punctuation he seemed to use it for; it was jarring for the sheer lack of poetry that seemed inherent in the single syllable - caught him off-guard. He'd been ready for a casual, leisurely pace a couple steps behind his friend, and all he got was a clear image of that stumble.

He wasn't sure what it said that he felt both an immediate spark of concern - one that barely made it past a faint frown - and curiosity - he wasn't injured last time I saw him. For a moment, he lingered behind, far enough that it didn't really constitute 'following'. Just a moment, though. Then his mind caught up to everything and he called himself back to attention.

"You okay, Lynch?" Adam asked, trying to keep as much concern from his voice as he strode forward to catch up. The entirety of his phrasing was intended to piece together a puzzle he didn't previously realise was there, while simultaneously remaining nonchalant enough that it wasn't taken for fussing. He continued: "I can't carry you if you break your ankle or something. You'd have to wait till I grabbed my bike, or just suffer."