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Sonya feels herself stiffen as she watches Kenshi separate himself from the ground crew.
As she watches him make his way across the landing pad and exit out through the gate, leaving the helicopter and dismissing soldiers behind him.
Pushing herself from her place of observation, Sonya makes her way across the base- never once taking her eyes off of him. There's no point in making her movements discreet; she knows that Kenshi knows she is coming. He's just choosing to cut out the middle conversation. He's just choosing to go ahead and make his way to where she was going to drag him off to anyways.
And even from a distance, she catches the minor struggles in his movements.
Sonya catches the way he counters against it so that the pain doesn't show, so that the pain isn't evident.
Kenshi has done it so many times, and he plays it off so well that he's able to bypass other people without drawing a blink of attention to himself.
Even when the plated-blue of his chest piece is visibly broken and crushed.
But she knows what to look for.
And she's known him for long enough that she understands why he does it.
She watches as he stops early and, instead of going where she wants him to, Kenshi turns and heads into the showers first- walking in through the administrative entrance. And part of her should've known better, even she knows this.
Still, she gives him some time, and ensures that no one else appears to be paying attention, before she follows in after him.
"You should really be in the infirmary," Sonya speaks, pulling his attention to her as she does.
Although he's more than aware of her presence by now.
"I should," Kenshi replies.
And she watches as he reaches up to remove his blindfold, peeling it away rather than pulling it down to his neck like he usually does.
"But I've been on a three-day trek through Outworld- and I would really prefer a shower first."
She's pretty certain he's been gone for longer than three days now.
But she doesn't push it.
She doesn't need his report right now.
"Alright, well if you throw up, just try to aim for the drain," Sonya remarks.
Kenshi chuckles and she can hear the slight wheeze in his voice when he does.
She stands back and watches as he begins to undress, as he tugs at the armor on his left forearm first. And she feels herself flinch at the crack of two of the armor plates breaking apart; she flinches at the sight of his hand as it curls tight into a fist to keep from shaking.
"Be careful," she starts.
And Sonya knows she doesn't need to say it.
She knows it's already too late to warn him, but the words come out anyways.
"I'm fine," Kenshi assures, and lies to her, in the same breath.
His fingers pull off the armor plates one portion at a time, fighting against the dented and now misshapen pieces that are digging into his arm. They clatter to the ground at his feet, and Sonya spots the red smears on the inside of the cuffs; she spots the stained material on his sleeve- just barely noticeable with how dark the fabric is naturally.
Kenshi curls his fingers in once more, as though to test his grip, before he releases.
Before he shifts his attention to his other arm.
The metal comes off easier on that side, and it tells her well enough which side he had been defending himself with.
Sonya steps in and takes the discarded armor and sets it aside on a nearby laundry cart for later retrieval.
Kenshi unclips the straps that keeps Sento's sheath secured to his back and slowly peels it over his shoulders and head.
And she notes that he does so with mostly one arm.
Her hand is already out when he hands Sento back to her.
"Is there anyone in here willing to tell me what happened out there?" Sonya asks, as she lets the weight of Sento settle in her hands and lingers on the feeling, before she turns and sets it down on the cart as well.
It's not broken, thankfully- but she has a feeling it's probably close enough.
"Oh they're willing," Kenshi replies- and there's a chuckle in his voice when he speaks. "About as willing as they were to start those fights."
And that gives her another idea of what has happened.
Kenshi unlatches the waist belt of his overcoat and runs a hand along the inside of the coat, looking as though he's having to peel it away from his armor. She steps in again and grabs the chest portion of the coat from behind him, and waits for him to put his arms down before she pulls it back. She's careful in how she works it off of him, in how she moves her hands to ensure that she's carrying the weight of the overcoat- and giving him one less thing to deal with.
And she forgets just how heavy the thick leather is.
Before she folds it over one arm and then drapes it across the cart.
All that's left is the red ribbon on his arms, and his chest plate.
Sonya waits for him to move first, for him to begin loosening the straps of the armor before she steps in.
The blue plates are crushed on one side, hinting at some sort of blunt force attack.
They are dented inward, in against his ribs, and just deep enough that Kenshi doesn't risk pulling the whole thing off at once. Instead, he loosens the straps a bit at a time, just enough to let the pressure ease off on its own; he breathes a little easier with each strap he unravels.
Sonya hears the crunch of either armor or ribs when the first strap comes undone, before he moves to the second that's hooked lower around his torso.
It looks like a painstaking process.
But he shows no outward reaction to it.
No more than a stifled grimace every now and again.
When the second strap comes undone, Kenshi moves a hand to catch the armored chest piece from the front as its own weight causes it to peel off of him. A cracked plate breaks off during the movement and clatters onto the floor at his feet.
"You look like shit," Sonya remarks.
She relies on the usual insult to keep herself from getting hurt as she takes the chest piece away from him.
It's still heavy when she lugs it off.
She can't imagine the weight, the pressure it had been pressing against him.
"I feel like it," Kenshi replies in an equal manner.
And she watches him give a hard exhale, no doubt feeling a mix of relief and pain all in one as the pressure gives away, finally allowing him to breathe again. If only to be slightly hindered by what looked and sounded like a few broken ribs or more.
"This body is a weapon," he remarks, unprompted now, as fingers begin to unravel the red ribbon from one arm.
Although, perhaps prompted, given the thoughts that are going through her head.
"Always has been."
She can't even offer a rebuttal.
Because she is the same way.
After everything she has lived through, everything she has survived from- and continues to survive from- she must see herself as a weapon.
They all do.
Regardless of how they feel about it.
But she has made peace with that outlook a long time ago.
She has had to accept it in order to protect those who won't, who can't.
"Maybe," Sonya offers, "but not everything has to be a target, you know."
"Maybe to you."
She steps in and takes over the unraveling process, pulling the ribbon down along his arm rather than trying to untie it.
As she does, Kenshi works off his gloves and exposes his hands.
"We're just made from different calibers," he offers.
And Sonya finds herself chuckling at his continuation.
"Let's not push the metaphor," she replies, as she moves to his other arm now and stands in front of him as she strips the ribbon off it as well.
She steps back and looks him over.
And she thinks, for just a brief moment, he almost looks okay.
Almost.
"I can handle the rest," Kenshi remarks.
"Can you?" Sonya asks.
"Well enough."
Not nearly a good enough answer, not for her anyways.
But she knows how he is.
Sonya moves a hand to his shoulder, the only place she thinks isn't hurting on him right now- and she feels the hand Kenshi places over her own. His skin is almost cold to the touch, but at least in this case, she's not worried about it. His hands are always cold and pale, something he blames on poor blood flow, even though she has yet to read of such a thing in his medical files.
"Maybe I should stick around- just in case," she offers; admittedly, she is reluctant to leave. "Make sure you don't pass out or anything."
"Yeah?" Kenshi questions. "Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing."
"Which one?"
"Passing out."
Sonya chuckles and figures, for now, he is still mostly okay.