[Every time he offers his hand lately, something seems to happen. That nothing happens this time is...it catches him a little off guard. His fingers curl, slowly, and he takes the hand back--lets his arm drop.

Kick the whelp into motion, that might kickstart him into making a decision.

No...no, perhaps refrain from something so rash.]

You look liable to slide down the few stairs you've managed to make up. [Said idly enough, like checking fingernails.] Would you like some advice, free of charge? [He leans closer.] I would suggest, get moving. One way or another, before you're washed away.