Most of the bottes Porthos knows are now useless, without his usual strength and weight to carry them through, but he's already thinking about ways to adapt them so they might work for him now. It's a lot of trial and error, but after a good half hour spent trying things, he feels definitely better about his abilities in a fight. They're nowhere near what they normally are, but he could hold his own against a Red Guard, now. Not the highest standard, but it'll have to do for today.

He picks up the kerchief he'd thrown into the grass earlier and wipes his face with it, then grins over at his friend. "Thank you." There's no doubt that he means it, and he walks over to the bottle of wine to take a swig, then holds it out to Aramis, his rapier still in his other hand.