"Leave me be!"
Raistlin's eyes bored into his brother until the lumbering ox realized he was most assuredly not welcome in the tent at this moment. Once Caramon had taken his sentimental and unnecessary protectiveness away, Raistlin could finally reassure himself. He did not see it as such, would scoff at the mere idea that he was less than prepared to face the battle of the morrow with less than his typical precision and deliberation.
A mage, though, always had to know that his components were at hand and ready. Nor did Caramon need to be there to ask questions and further distract the red-mage.
Come the dawn, the brothers would prove the cost of their hire again. But this night, Raistlin balanced himself with surety of his tools.