Porthos' eyes are shut until he feels movement, the tap at his shoulder making him slowly inch up until he can give Aramis enough room to slide in behind him. Porthos stares down at his mottled body, tracing the bruises where he can actually see the marks of fists, which is a strange thing, indeed.

He doesn't know if he's going to be ready to go back to sparring Oliver anytime soon. He might have to stick with just Tommy. "You'd tell me if you faced something down there, right?" he asks quietly.