Ordhan had been looking down at Falina as he listened to her, attention absolute, and did not notice anything out of place until the dwarf trailed off mid-sentence. He followed her gaze to a young woman by the bookshelf, clad in yellow robes standing by a bookshelf, her smile friendly but nervous.
His mind automatically tumbled backwards over the recent exchange of conversation--no, nothing that could cause offense had been said, though guilt pricked that he had asked for such a story in a room that may have been occupied. It was his fault, not Falina's, that she had answered so honestly within earshot of a stranger. There was nothing in the tale to be ashamed of, but Ordhan had come to understand that the mercenary liked his privacy.
This was all thought in a second, and in the next he realized that he recognized the young woman: she was the kind-faced mage who had waved at him when those of the Circle first came to the Keep, and the same who had pleaded for Karashok to release the youngest of them after the hedge had been lit aflame. Now and again, in passing, he saw her at the Keep. There were many mages, but this one he remembered. There was something about the arch of her brows and the color of her hair that--no, it couldn't be, she is the wrong age, he chided himself each time he saw her. It was about time he learned her name to put such foolish thoughts to rest.
Falina looked up at him, uncertain, and he returned the glance with a calm smile. After Falina greeted the young woman, Ordhan bowed from the waist, head dipping politely. "Hello, miss," he said with a hint of an amiable smile. "I apologize if I interrupted you."