She sighed deeply to herself as she leaned in, thinking nothing of it but just to relieve some of the tension and also to hear to what he was speaking so softly. He was like Tyr, silent but knowledgeable, unlike Tyr, who took her quirks with good humour, the greek healer seemed to hear what she was really saying or feeling where people would just overlook or misinterpret. He may be reticent in his being, but Eir could somewhat understand.
When he leaned back, she blinked once but said nothing - besides, he smelt nice. Nice as in clean, the smell of sun touched fabrics and the sea - unlike Tyr or Thor who usually left the scent of smoke, blood and fire in their wake - oh yes, blood, how the smell never really comes out. A moment or two, in her mind dithered towards Detmold and the horrors - the ashes, the screams; but it was the voice of Asklepios that brought her back to the present. Perhaps he was tired as well - she didn't finch but just stayed there close in.
Eir shivered instinctively at the recollection, "and oddballs." She often what these people do after their prime of their lives were over - where their body so worn out that they could hardly do anything. "Do you play tennis?" The Norse healer tilted her head slightly to look at him at an angle. "Other than it being Nonsense."