Francis' grip on his hand loosens, but Raju can feel the ghost of how tightly he'd been clutching it and doesn't move his hand away. He crouches instead, letting out a long, slow breath as he thinks over Francis' words.

"It's very bad, isn't it?" he says softly, neutrality melting away bit by bit to make room for the crease deepening between Raju's eyebrows. He looks down from Francis' face, over his chest, as if he could see anything there that hadn't been obvious ten minutes ago. "You're sure it's only sore? Strained muscles?"

His hand moves down over Francis' ribcage, trying to find a balance between feeling their alignment there and pressing too hard. But he has to know. "Your ribs aren't..."