go on, praise us some more

It had to be the left shoulder, didn't it? Prosthetics should, in theory, serve as great backscratchers, but Shulk struggled mightily in practice.

Then, a savior.

"Just a little higher, Al- A. Just there. Yeah, that'll do it-"

And then, A stepped out to Shulk's right, causing a jerk in that hand the Godcleaver would so sorely have loved to blame on a malfunction for Nikol to poke at later. Even now, the boy's eyes flicked over.

"...you can leave it there, Rex."

Rex chortled, but stopped his ministrations, as bid. "On a dime? You're sore in, I'll tell ya."

Glimmer had complained profusely. She did so at will about anything, if she thought it worth her time, but this in particular: Rex's...vociferous penchant, when it came to stretching, cracking, popping joints, et cetera.

"You sound like a broken-down Levnis," she'd said with mouth-corner rising, and Rex had grinned sheepishly, thanking the momentarily-bygone Titans when a steady hand arrived at his back to work on the knots directly.

"Oh, thanks for that, Shulk. Cor..."

"You don't have to thank Shulk for everything I do, you know."

Even Glimmer giggled, at that, while the remaining blood drained from Rex's face.

Of course A was the last. Accustomed to a flat-back sleeping position and acrobatic manoeuvres with no born-in concept of physical strain, aches were more prevalent than was preferable. It would certainly take a bold one to assume the responsibility of approaching A and helping out, but someone did. The likely candidate, of course, was Rex.

"Better than Matthew..." muttered A. "He would just as well have slapped my back as helped me."

Suddenly, the massaging thumb stopped.

"Sorry, was that too rough? Maybe I overcompensate, with this hand..."

Apparently, Rex had aged into imperviousness to a stern Trinity-Core glare.