Eyes still narrowed with suspicion, Athos sinks to the floor, and after a thoughtful pause, tugging his boots off. As a soldier to the very marrow of his bones, he has awoken on his share of mornings with creaking muscles that will not obey until they have been stretched a bit, but Porthos has turned such a simple matter into something like worship. Dubious, he presses his socked feet to Porthos’ bare ones. “Very well."