It isn't like Guts to fuss too much, so he just watches from where he is. Saturday wouldn't want that kind of thing, anyway.

"You were fighting a demon. Nothing pleasant is going to come from them."

Maybe he was being a bit drearier than normal, voice tinged with a bleaker, older self that had been drowning in demons and their curses. It was a time with little hope and no time to entertain fairy tales.

He was worried.