[ The offer of the hand promptly earns a suspicious stare, Gen regarding it like he's been offered a poisoned drink. What the hell is it even supposed to mean? Comfort? No way. What kind of weirdo would try something like that mere minutes after getting threatened and shaken around. An offer of alliance? Not likely. This guy seems like he's barely able to take care of himself, let alone help in any sort of fight.

... a deal. That has to be it. Probably. ]

Don't need your help. I don't have anything to give you, either. So.

[ A conclusion finally reached, Gen brushes off that gentle gesture with the cool, dismissive condescension so typical of most teenagers. But notably, some of the ire's drained from his voice. Maybe because he's just that tired, or maybe because even he has a harder time being prickly while meeting the quiet, insistent worry in Dextera's gaze. Probably a little bit of both. ]

Find someone else if you're looking to cooperate. Too many people here seem willing to give up their food or whatever. You'll get along with'em.