Garrot smiles at the squeeze. Better than the compliment. Warmth and support, good. Makes him feel less useless. When Gyre starts to force them onward, the walking stick seems to greatly reduce Garrot's cognitive load, or at least just his hesitation. He's still focusing on large, smooth areas for his feet, but he's able to progress like his brain isn't eighty percent mush right now.

In fact, despite his issues with communicating, Garrot still has a bit of surgical precision with that walking stick. It thuds decisively into a stone with one step, then a bit of dirt for the next, and his grip looks like if it wasn't a Knight Weapon, he might've broken it by now. He's still in there somewhere, even if his focus is shot.

"Kid. Heavy?" Don't think part of him didn't notice you adjust that child, Gyre. Garrot leans a little less on the elf and more on his walking stick. The look on his face is a blend of anger and worry. "Impotent." That's the biggest word he's used since he took that explosion, and it's pretty obvious he's talking about himself.