"There's no need," Cu Chulainn insisted, drawing his arms to cross beneath his chest. He had some with the intent of trying to make Diarmuid feel better, but the young man seemed in relatively good spirits to begin with and he, himself, had only arrived with an air of irritation. It was a bad recipe and one that only worsened with time.

"I'll have to take care of things, myself."

His hands were empty, which irritated him. The staff--he had given it to Kayneth, earlier. Without a way to keep his hands busy, Cu Chulainn was sure he'd bloody himself.