He resists the urge to reach out and steady the other man, because he'd been very clear in what he was comfortable with. Sylvain's not sure if it's a matter of pride or something worse. So he keeps his hands to himself, even if the tighten into fists a moment to hold himself back before he purposefully tucks them away into his pockets so he doesn't forget himself out of instinct.

Falling into step besides Kaz, he keeps the pace slow and leisurely, wondering if he offered to heal him, if it would be accepted or prompt that same visceral response as before?

He makes a face at the question, however, and can't help a quiet laugh that holds the faintest hint of bitterness he can't quite hide all the way.

"I'm still figuring that part out. It's novel enough to be figuring out who I am, when I've never really been allowed to be just that before. But I'm afraid it's taking a bit of trial and error." His lips quirk faintly, sardonic. "Some habits are really hard to leave behind when they're as ingrained as breathing."