[He accepts the hand on his arm. He wasn't too good to accept help, of course. But...]

Oh, but I'm such a good nan. [Over time he's learned not to stumble when this kind of thing happened. The metal of her armor created a wonderful soundscape- his brain interpreting the walls and pockets as the noise came back to him.]

How big is it? There's pockets in the rubble we can climb through to our right, but it'll won't do us any good if it can squeeze in after us.