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After the second or so of confusion, he bristled at Lyla's poor choice for a joke -- or was that another strong shiver? -- and flashed a scowl at her. "How--!?" he started again, cutting his repeated question off as she answered it properly. Any of that irritation evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, intent on keeping the girl from falling back into that metaphorical pit of no return. Eyesight steady, sense of humor intact, able to speak full sentences as opposed to the fragmented speech patterns from earlier... was it too soon to try for optimism again?

It was difficult to keep his hand steady as he moved the wet washcloth over to Lyla's cheek, attempting to wipe the blood from around but not over the cut. He was practically holding his breath, another attempt to stave off the fear that was ever present. His movements paused as she asked how it looked, eyes darting to her, but no voice emerged before he got back to work to clean it up. He felt so numb, twisted inside and circulating ice water through his veins. It looked bad -- of course it looked bad, there was blood everywhere! -- but he wasn't going to say that. Was she even still paying attention? He focused on his breathing as he worked, realizing he'd stopped with the oxygen intake again.

He leaned back, fiddling with readjusting the scrap of fabric to fold differently though his quivering fingers was making that more than a bit of a chore. A rattled breath was cut short as Lyla requested he try to seal it with a String Shot, not once coming to the conclusion of stitching it up. His sights fell back on the wound itself, a slight, deliberating frown emerging from his expression, "I'm... not sure it would stick..." It was just silky string, after all! Tilting his head a little, he considered possibly wrapping some around her head, and his frown sharpened as he mulled it over. It would be a bit unconventional... but it was worth a shot, if nothing else. Perhaps use the scrap of cloth as the padding of a bandaid...

Hearing Lyla confirm that the berries had helped her had Kenley stopping in his tracks, as far as the bandage was concerned, in order to stare at her, astonished. They... they really worked..? He glanced back down at the bloodied cloth in his hands, resting in his lap, and his grip on it tightened, the shaking more evident. The desire to cry was alien, let alone when it was out of relief, and he fought it off by digging his fingernails into his palms. However, it was considerably easier to kick that urge out once Lyla decided that it was wise to head back to camp. His attention snapped back to her, quiet observation finally finding its way to his vocal chords with a somber, "You're all alone..."

With a growl, he dropped the cloth in favor of placing his hands on either of her shoulders, preventing her from rising any more than simply sitting up, "Shut up and stay down!" Why did his concern always have to come out in the angriest way possible? And why did it insist on continuing? "What makes you think that's anywhere near a bright idea? You'd never make it ten feet, the way you are now! You're not invincible!" he snapped, trying his hardest to keep his voice below a yell. He was just so, so scared. His nerves were playing puppeteer with him, and without removing that dark glower from his face, he quickly removed his trembling hands from her and clumsily got back to work on moistening the cloth with the canteen again. "I can try with the String Shot. I'm not sure it'll work, but I don't see any other options," he grumbled, pressing on with the previous conversation as though to try to indicate Lyla's departure being a closed subject. She was stubborn, though, so Kenley was keeping wary of what she tried to do next.

For Kenley, any sign of blood was enough to warrant the label of a 'bad injury.' With so few in his history that went beyond the usual internal pain, the bleeding superficial ones were largely unfamiliar and cause for concern. Scrapes and bruises were one thing, but knife wounds!? If he had been a little more knowledgeable to the fact that facial wounds were bleeders in general, he may have had more luck convincing Lyla that it wasn't too bad... that is, if he could just get over being squeamish about it. It was so unnerving!

He froze for a split second at the thought of stitching Lyla up, paling at the consideration. Eyes closing tightly, he shook his head in emphasis, "The needle's too big to do that with anyway!" The holes caused by that stinger would do more damage than the cut itself, if he wanted to be thorough! Never mind the fact that he'd likely not be able to go through with something so barbaric if that wasn't the case... He completely missed the joking atmosphere she placed on the suggestion, but as her tone began sounding more desperate, he once more tried to force himself to overcome his own panic, bottling it up; there was no use for it, other than to impede progress, no matter how unsteadily that progress seemed to stand. "It's fine, we can fix this. I'm just not used to dealing with it is all..." he stated, sounding more calm than he felt... and probably looked, outside of the concentration he gave to wiping off more of the blood as it flowed. As soon as he got most of the dried parts off her skin, he held the cloth at the wound and kept it there to stem the bleeding. His hands were all red... he tried to keep his own attention off of them.

The situation... keep your focus on the situation! he had to remind himself. Emotion had no room here at the moment. Let him have a panic attack later, whatever, but now wasn't the time! Inhale, exhale; it was choppy, but it would do. He was oblivious to the chance that Lyla might have seen -- or be able to read into -- any of his confusing actions. They didn't matter at the moment anyway, the only thing that mattered was reaching the goal line, to make sure that Lyla could survive, that she didn't further injure herself in her drive to be bull-headed... even if it would be akin to a bighorn sheep duel.

No matter how hard he tried, emotion couldn't be fully absent, but Kenley was completely capable of ignoring the implications, or how they affected him any deeper than superficially. He wasn't really part of the equation at the moment, after all, he was merely the road block. Even if... seeing her look so crushed after Kenley noted that she'd be by herself made him second-guess what he wanted to do... He flinched to see her tremble at the realization, but the action was absorbed by the fear-induced shaking he was already experiencing, running along his nerves.

There was no responding to it, however, at least immediately. Lyla didn't want to be alone, that much was obvious... even if she was reluctant to say so. Why else had she been looking so long for Llyr, the only one she thought she could trust, to stick with through thick and thin? Why else had she braved the wilds on her own, despite having been cared for by a trainer before that, without seeking help? Who would, if they thought the road would lead to safety with those they thought of as family? Family's overrated... he thought sourly. 'Family' obviously couldn't understand... but as much as he was loathe to admit it, Kenley could.

The quick words came like a switchblade, tipped in the sharp aggravation caused by fear and fear alone, "Leave it, it's not like it's going anywhere! What, do you really think someone's going to raid it? Look, your bow's behind me and you're living off of pecha berries anyway! Give me a break..." A harsh sigh followed, attention turned to how he was going to strap on the cloth he was holding to her face so his arm didn't get tired. Well that little outburst didn't help him feel any better... and judging from how she reacted in the past to anger while vulnerable, and how she was acting currently around him, it wasn't looking like it was going to help her, either.

This fear was really making him feel sick, and the stabbing sensation like a pike through the chest wasn't helping; he didn't want Lyla to be upset... He clawed at the palm of his free hand again in nervousness, unable to look at her, "Lyla, you... you don't have to feel alone anymore..." With a twinge, the teen realized he might have been assuming a little much. Maybe he was relying too much on her words, when he should have been looking to her actions: she was always trying to get away. What made him think she'd want to stay here!? It was only by chance he found her this time, but wasn't she trying to avoid him? She had said she would be back in a week, near two weeks ago -- she had better things to do with her time. This whole time, she...

Well this was awkward, and he'd probably made the situation that much worse by suggesting something so stupid. Flustered, he tried to work a manageable length of String Shot from his hands, to tie it around Lyla's head. It was considerably less than elegant, but it was all he could manage with such twitchy fingers. "L-Look, if you really want, I can help you back later... but you're in no condition right now, I'm sorry," his voice was strained as his mind tried to find any better alternative. Stupid stupid, that wasn't unselfish at all! Kenley was the one that wanted Lyla to stay, not the other way around! "Or if you really want... I-I mean, I could help you back after getting you patched up?" he proposed uneasily, tone easing back into its more comfortable bite after a forced breath, "It's not like I'm going to force you to stay here. Whatever you want." Always the default to anger, it made things so much easier on him... but he didn't realize the sulky bitterness in his voice as he tried to straighten the threads in a sheet, strung like a harp through his bloodied fingers as he tugged on either end.

Kenley's eyes flicked back to Lyla long enough to see her attempt at a smile, but he responded with a frown, sharpened by the raised concern of further poison affliction. His panic was growing more visible in his expression, but lessening a bit in his posture, receding further inside. Still, in a way, this pain she was feeling was all his fault, wasn't it? "Yeah, it would... that would be rather counterproductive," he responded hesitantly, almost physically pulling away from the train of thought. That is, until Lyla's hand raised up to hold the cloth next to his own hand. For a moment, he froze. It was a combination reaction, slightly comforting though he feared this was leading up to another fainting spell. The silcoon watched Lyla's hand for a minute to make sure this wasn't cause for deja vu, but it wasn't until he made sure of that that he realized that this was actually quite helpful. With a start, he grabbed that hand and carefully slid it over a bit, to the center of the cloth, "Hold that in place, I'll need both hands to try the String Shot." He considered that she probably already knew that, but saying it helped Kenley to keep his thoughts directed.

Her emphasis on her disbelief that Kenley would ever offer to have her stay here was enough to cause him to flinch, the string around his fingers tensing uncomfortably sharp against his hands. Was it really so far out of the question? Did she really think he didn't care? "I just got done going all over creation to try to get you feeling better. I just tried to kill your brother just so he wouldn't try abusing you again. He freaking cut you with my knife!" he snapped, the words dulled by the lowered tone of his voice, "Do you really think I'm just going to drop everything and leave you here? After all that?" He held his breath a moment, his mind fumbling with how to word what he was trying to say and his sight diverted to finishing the makeshift bandage in his hands, "I can stay down here with you. Tch, it's not like I've really got anything better to do at three in the morning." So what if staying on the ground floor made him nervous, he was a little past being stuck on emotion at a desperate time like this. With a snort, he slid the string off the fingers on one hand, "Unless you still consider that 'being unprotected.'"

The way Lyla pulled away at his tone felt like another stab, but he didn't redact it. He meant his words, and she knew he acted this way from the start... which is probably why she wanted to leave, now that he thought about it. Who in their right minds wanted to be around someone so volatile, especially when this was the closest Kenley's ever gotten to caring about someone? He couldn't really blame her. "Look, I just... I want you to do what will make you happiest, that's all. I don't care what that is," he stated, though he still couldn't look at her, his face tinting pink; of course he wanted her to stay! Why couldn't he just say that? His attention finally turned back fully to her, trying to say as much but falling a little outside the realm he was aiming for, "You said, last time... you called me your friend. I'm sorry if I misunderstood that." Had she been trying to be sarcastic? The nervous awkwardness had him jumping to trying to wrap her head up with the String Shot wrappings before she had a chance to respond, though it was a bit difficult to keep it straightened with his hands still insisting their twitchiness. He wrapped it around, though it didn't make as many rounds around her head as he was hoping it would reach; it was good enough to hold for now. Probably. "Okay, slide your hand out and I'll try tightening it a bit more to keep the thing in place. Let me know if it gets too tight. I hope this works..."

There was very little that Kenley was allowing himself to be fully aware of, or fully capable of being aware of. Lyla's tone didn't go by unnoticed, but it could have been easily connected to being directly related to her fatigue over everything that had happened in the past span of a handful of hours, or even against a different subject, such as depression or pain. Either way, he didn't think too hard on it; the panic alone was enough distraction as it was, though it was slowly beginning to slacken in the wake of Lyla's coherence.

Despite that focus, as she smiled at the reappearance of his own irritated tone... that got more notice, especially since he was almost sure she would only keep pulling away. She didn't like the anger, but Kenley felt like that's all he could really express right now, at least until she started agreeing with him, and not because it was a blow to the self-esteem, either. He fidgeted with the string in his hands, still unsure of how he was supposed to accept gratitude; it wasn't as though it were something he had someone say to him very often... or at all, really. "I think you caused more damage than I did, though," he noted a bit hesitantly, shaking his head a little, "And I'm not sure I really saved your life, either. I mean, I'd imagine you'd try to Comet Punch Death in the gut if he tried." While the humility there may have been a bit new, it felt nice to be comfortable enough to make a joke again, even if he honestly meant what he said. A light smirk appeared then, "Really, though, don't mention it. And no, that's not a problem at all. If I didn't, I'd probably just worry that you--" He tripped a bit in his words, but he was no time traveler... it was probably obvious by now that he was worried anyway, right? So there was no real sense in covering that up... "--that you'd only get worse. At least this way I can make sure you don't try to do something stupid." It was a bit of a tease, but with her stubbornness, he wasn't entirely joking there, either. Kenley's tone, however, had mostly given up on its insistence of holding so tightly to sounding irritated.

He listened to Lyla's explanation for her avoidance as he wrapped her injury behind the cocoon bandage, his movements coming at halting paces. How much of what he said without thinking affected her like this..? Luckily he was still working on fixing up her bandage, for his face turned a bit more red then, trying to figure out how to explain what happened at the end of their previous encounter. There really was no easier way of putting it, was there? "That wasn't it; I wasn't mad. It's just that... I'd never been kissed before..." the volume of his voice seemed to drop with each successive word, and once he was finished, his jaw almost seemed to lock in place. It wasn't even that he was embarrassed about that fact -- he'd always avoided people, why would that fact even be unusual? -- it was just that admitting shortcomings, in any sense, always seemed to be difficult. After all, he was supposed to be the all-powerful overlord around here, even if that title had been just about disproved in every possible way today.

Kenley almost didn't want to lean back to ask her if the bandage had been tightened enough, or if it was too tight. He wasn't sure if his face was red after that, but he was warm enough to suspect it after Lyla admitted that she liked being around him, despite all his faults. Despite the bad temper, and the confusion that he caused her when his pride took the wheel. However, it was her timid request to stay that had him finally moving, but not in any way that he was anticipating, quickly pulling her into a tight hug, "You don't even need to ask. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want." How long had he been holding that off? She sounded so uneasy, it almost reflected Kenley's own when it came to suggesting such an idea in the first place.

"So, um... how's the bandage feel? Do you think it'll stay?" he asked, as though on second thought to avoid the repercussions on an action that seemed much too uncharacteristic for the silcoon. So then, was that what friendship did to a person?

He tried to hold back the shiver at the thought of Llyr holding that blade above him. How close had he actually been to death there? It didn't look like the butterfree had been bluffing, especially after what Kenley had said to enrage him so suddenly... Lyla hadn't heard that, right? "He probably would have..." the boy muttered; he had never been so angry before, either, so of course he had ended up saying something so stupid without thinking of the consequences. "Do you think that would have actually killed you?" Kenley asked, uncertain. It was something he had been wondering, if the poison affliction was more deadly as they were now as opposed to their previous forms, but as much as the thought kept popping up, he wanted it to be just a case of him worrying too much. That didn't sound like it was the case, the way she was describing it...

"A little stubborn..." Kenley mimicked more pointedly with a quiet snort of amusement, "You stop injuring yourself further, and I'll think about it. It's not like I got hurt, after all." Well... sort of, but nothing that was really all that visible; that Silver Wind Llyr had conjured really took out a lot of his energy, and any damage he had to his hands from attacking the butterfree was similarly covered by Lyla's blood, so he was fairly capable of fudging that fact a bit. It was nothing in comparison anyway.

He wished there was a little more of an explanation behind Lyla's random kiss, but it seemed they were both stalemated to the meaning. If there even was a meaning. However, he latched onto an idea to that effect and, abruptly, snickered a bit, "Ohhh I get it... you really are a brat, aren't you? It was because you thought I was going to let you fall, wasn't it? You were just getting me back!" It was an out, at least, for the other end of the spectrum as an explanation seemed a little more than far-fetched, and her apology rubbed him the wrong way. "Heh, okay okay, you got me," he laughed, "Good one."

With the lack of a warning and atypical action he had just imposed, Kenley wasn't sure if the hug was only going to make things more awkward or confusing. It was impulsive, but for some reason, he thought that it was necessary. For a moment, he thought maybe it was only because the words she spoke were the words he had wanted to hear, another testament to his own selfishness. However, her sniffles and tightening grasp on him made him realize that she really did need the comfort, to have that uneasiness taken away. With all her emotional disarray, it was all he really could do. He nodded as she answered about the bandage, but his grip didn't loosen. "I meant exactly what I said," he asserted, "There's no hidden meaning in there. You stay as long as you want, though it had better at least be until you're better." Her distressed words still stung in an unfamiliar, sympathetic way, and he wrestled with the attempt to keep it from coming back, "And I meant that, too. You're not alone, you don't have to feel alone anymore, okay?"

He didn't want to let go, not until he knew she was feeling better, not until she understood that he wasn't joking this time, not lying. There was no way for him to know any of that, though, and he saw this conundrum for what it was. However, even though Lyla's grip was lessening, he still decided to take that as a notion not to pull away. It worked enough for him. Then again, there was also another issue that that brought to light, "Hey Lyla, you should probably get some rest. You've been through a lot, and that might help get the last of the poison out of your system." There was some momentary hesitation before Kenley decided he should probably verify what he said before, to that effect as well, "You won't be in any danger down here, and I'll still be here when you wake up. Deal?" That brought on a whole bunch of other worries, of course, but he knew it couldn't be avoided. Just so long as she kept breathing all night, it would be okay.

With Lyla's harsh reaction to the poison, most certainly more hazardous than any normal pokémon afflicted with it, Kenley wouldn't have been hard-pressed to believe it was more deadly as well, if only from the secondary effects alone. It was terrifying... it was a wonder the berries still worked, despite the altered forms; maybe they were more effective now, too? Speculation was annoying, but it was all they could really go by at the moment. No sense worrying about it... or anything else, for that matter, if it could be helped. It was difficult enough owning up to the fact he could even feel that way, let alone trying to hide it. At least, for all intents and purposes, she knew now, and might be able to do something about not making him feel like he had to worry...

He almost wished she would have played along with Kenley's explanation as to why she had kissed him the last time, if only because he could react to it simply enough, even if it was a lie. This... this was a lot more awkward, and his confused silence belied the frantic embarrassment within. Maybe he had actually wanted her to say that, after all... but he didn't know how to respond to it. She meant it as a thank-you, didn't she? Then why was he tempted to assume it meant anything more than that?

Despite the inner turmoil, nothing about Lyla's state went unnoticed. If he had thought that her admittance to kissing him had never been anything negative was difficult to figure out how to handle, her sobbing quickly took that position. H-How was he supposed to deal with that!? Sure, he could tell it was more out of happiness now instead of the misery from before, and that was a bit of a comfort, but... he still didn't know if he was doing this right. He gave her a squeeze, an attempt to stop her shaking, but he knew well enough that she just had to let it all out, as uncomfortable as it might be. "That's right, it'll all be okay now," he managed to say after a moment, but it was all he found that he really could.

He noticed her breathing even out after a bit, her grip on him loosening but still remaining attached to his shirt. With a small jolt, Kenley came to a vague realization, and pulled back a little. "Oh you have got to be--" he broke off the commentary with a sigh. She had cried herself to sleep... and he couldn't very well get up without the risk of waking her. Maybe it was all for the best, for it was in that moment that he realized how utterly exhausted he was. He moved to resituate himself, leaning back into the tree heavily. Everything felt like molasses, sluggish and weighty; even his head felt like the pressure behind his eyes was caused by the very same material. Glancing to Lyla, he made sure she was still sleeping soundly enough. He flinched a bit, refraining from pulling her any closer, leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree instead. Llyr had taunted him about having a crush earlier, but ever since he had said it, the question had dug all the deeper, warping his perceptions and attempting to uncover things he didn't want to find...

His frustrated sigh came almost as a hiss, "...Maybe Llyr was right..."