Porthos had listened for all of ten seconds. That's roughly how long it takes him to get himself to his feet and creep and inch his way downstairs because he aches like mad, but he's not letting the both of them run off without him. He finds them above, having followed open doors and the sound of voices, and he gives a frustrated grunt to see that he's been left to climb the stairs himself.

"Is the thing up here?" he asks, not bothering to name it as Thomas because it's not.