Ordhan stood, hands clasped behind his back and head bent to look at her face as he spoke, then waited for her answer. Thus her distraction did not go unnoticed, nor did the faint smile and wandering glance. That was not a reaction he was expecting. Of course, she had given no reason he should not give the benefit of the doubt; perhaps she was considering the practicality of armor versus her robes. His brow creased when he realized that he had been considering the same thing only moments before--and that his glance could have been taken the wrong way. The thought did not fluster him, but he made a mental note to be even more careful to make no untoward gesture.
Her response was calm, implying further that whatever delayed her response was innocent enough. Useful, she said--that was always the key word when it came to Tranquil, it seemed, and if what she said was true, Constans would certainly be leaving the Keep. The thought had an edge of urgency to it; the young man had demonstrated that he had skill, and now he had a sword, but armor was still lacking.
"Let's, then," was his reply. He motioned in the direction of the sparring grounds. "There are also training targets there, which will be easier to begin upon than the air, or me." He took half a step towards it, still facing her. If his past experiences with mages were any indication, he knew that they hated wasting time.