Alcuin had been rummaging through his bag to double check that he'd acquired everything he needed before he left the shops behind when suddenly a man leapt down from on high. He stepped back with a stifled gasp and instinctively clutched the bag to his torso to shield himself from assault, though the man's submissive posture and softly spoken apology quickly allayed any suspicion of assault or robbery. Upon closer inspection, once his heart had slowed to an acceptable pace again, the man appeared to have a large and bulky looking collar round his neck as well. Another slave, then. Which begged the question: what was the man running from? “Elua's grace!” Alcuin exclaimed, chuckling in spite of himself. “What in the world is the rush?”