Johnny supposes that having to use his arms for everything has its perks. Over time, they’ve grown stronger, solid muscle shaped by necessity. There’s a kind of quiet pride in it, not the attention-seeking or bragging kind. Just something he knows. They were built, had good muscle. Quick, too.

And today, like the past few days, you stumble again.

You weren't sure if you thought of yourself as clumsy, but it’s already happened more than once. In fact, it's happened twice. Both times, you fell.

It was nighttime, walking around the campfire that quietly sputtered flames into the air. Gyro was already sleeping in the half of a tent. Only you and Johnny were awake, with him sitting on a log nearby.

It wasn’t much. In fact, it was just a rock embedded into the ground shifting under your boot, enough to send your weight tilting. But the terrain was sloped and loose. If you went down, you’d slide a few feet easy. It’s not a dramatic fall, but enough to send you forward, off-center.

This time, Johnny catches you.

With no hesitation, his hand closed around your wrist quickly, your body pulled upright before the fall ever finishes. Your weight righted with the sharp strength in his arm, like he’s done it hundreds of times before.

“You alright?” his voice was level, maybe a little annoyed or tired. But his eyes looked over you like he was checking for some kind of injury anyway. You nodded, but you didn’t move yet. His hand was still on your arm.

“That’s three times this past week now,” he muttered, "you gotta watch your footing." he gave you a flat look. Then the corners of his mouth curl into something just barely resembling a smile. He muttered, just loud enough for you to catch.

“Good thing my arms are decent, huh?"