The air smelt more strongly of tea than it was supposed to, that was it. Ah, well, there were worse things to spill than water and herbs, hardly the end of the world if the carpet smelled like chamomile and ginsing. And quite honestly, David could understand why Arla was nervous - he was nervous, he who had been training daily for years whether he wanted to or not. Neither of them had abilties that directly translated to combat -- her less so than David. Fun times ahead.
Her question, though, caught him off guard and threw him off of that line of thinking. It wasn't that the answer was difficult, but when was the last time that anyone had ever asked him? The role of a guide had been with David so long that there really were no off hours, and everyone around him seemed to sense that. He didn't mind, but to have it pointed out was strange.
David waved an easy hand. "Me? Oh, not really. I don't have many stories worth telling." The lie was easier because of how far from the truth it really was. Oh, there were stories, but telling them meant thinking about them, and most of those memories were burried for a reason. "Please, don't feel like you're dumping things on me. I promise you're not driving me crazy."