"I-it doesn't have to..." the kid replied, finally letting go of his friend's hand, satisfied that there had been no damage done. A slight stammer had returned to his voice. "W-we could have stopped."
He stood up first, and held out one hand to pull Horace to his feet, wiping his eyes with the other. The anger seemed to leak out of him until only a dull exhaustion was left. He wasn't used to getting angry, but at the same time he knew it wasn't his friend's fault. It was common practice to spar until one's shield broke, but Oliver had nightmares of his own, and knew how delicate that protection really was.
The Semblance of Unity
