“You shouldn’t be mad at him for it,” Aurin’s voice echoed in the empty room. The man himself had slipped into the room quietly. How long he had watched her was very hard to figure out, but he almost knew just what she was thinking. She only got this physical when she was angry, very angry. Nothing made Deidre as angry as being frustrated and unable to do anything about it. His arms were crossed over his chest, no armor covered his form but he still wore his sword on his back. The light tunic and pants were the same he had spent most of the day in. He smiled, but the smile was clouded by the worry in his eyes.
He watched the sword skitter across the floor of the salle before he shook his head and pushed himself away from the wall. Slow and even steps carried him across the floor to the sword before he reached down and plucked the weapon up off the floor. “You shouldn’t throw things like that.”, he murmured as he looked back towards the woman with a slightly lopsided smile. “Never know when you might need it.” He offered the weapon back towards the Sister hilt first as his eyes followed the last light of the setting sun dancing on the blade.