He realized almost as soon as he caught sight of her that she was more agitated than when he had left her. He wasn't used to seeing her that way; he had grown used to her confidence, by now. He let himself make more than a cursory scan of her face without actually digging any deeper, which he was still quite reluctant to do. He thought - and hoped - that she was only nervous, for whatever reason, instead of reluctant. Or worse, regretful.
He wouldn't ask. He resisted the urge to offer to let her get her rest. "No catastrophes?" He stopped beside her, glancing don the hall. "We've only caught two so far tonight, trying to bewitch the stairways. Not a banner year."