Another hesitation. The urge to dig his heels in and stay put is very strong. Why would someone help when he's the one who's supposed to be doing the assisting? Is he really that useless?

His feet make the decision before his brain does. Before long, he's in motion again, following, slightly behind. Right, a long walk. Maybe it will pass or maybe something will call one of them away.

"Training," he says, simply. More tight-lipped than he would be, normally.