Sylvain is still. He watches Sturm fall, and even he feels a pang of guilt. It's a vicious hit, one that he doesn't yet comprehend the depth of, and he can see the pain of it. While the Jynx seems unfazed -- this is battle and what she's here for -- Sylvain is slackjawed.

"Claude -- " He catches himself. He doesn't know if anyone's watching, but this whole affair had been a cover up. If he shows mercy now, anything more than smug satisfaction over what looked like low blow to a weak area, the whole thing falls apart.

He hates it. And worse, he hates that he can see just how upset Claude is over it. There's enough distance to provide Claude something of a mask for his feelings, but Sylvain can read between the lines. He wouldn't pull down his hat for no reason, of that Sylvain is certain.

He makes a note to ask after Claude later. To check on Sturm once they've made it back to safety. For now, they both have work to do, and Sylvain begins racing forward, past the man and his fallen Pokemon. All the same, he veers dangerously close to Claude as he moves.

To a bystander, it might look like a ruthless shoulder check, injury to an insulting win. For Sylvain, it's a front. It's easier to press his hand against Claude's, squeeze it tight, and make sure the spare potion he had on hand is given over to him. He doesn't know if it'll do nearly enough to bring Sturm back from his dazed state. He doesn't know if the hand squeeze -- unnecessary for the action itself -- will give Claude any comfort.

And he doesn't have time to think about either option, anyway. He's already moving past Claude, racing down the street.