When the door opens, Bastien stops testing the wall behind him for loose bricks, his arms settling down into their previous defeated slump. The recently-dislocated shoulder looks useless again, handled gingerly as he squirms his way into standing with only his legs and his other arm.

"Come on," he says, without much force behind it. He's not being anyone forceful for them. He's being someone who believes they've been beaten, friendliness and gallantry half-crushed beneath the weight of that knowledge. "She's an old woman. Don't..."