She lets Hawke speak and pull Chris in without speaking, only managing to step closer and rest a hand on Chris' shoulder as the cleric curls into the other man. It isn't her place to crowd, and she knows how Chris is with physical touch. If he wants something of her before they go, he'll have it. There's nothing else to worry about outside that.
Every detail offered about the assailants is burned into her memory. They'll need that when they go clean the city of their filth. It doesn't matter how large they are, how strong they are, or how clever they are; she is faster, lighter, and has a powerful mage on her side. They won't stand for long. Blood will be spilled and she may very well paint herself in it to add insult to the injury of their deaths. She doesn't care; their lives were forfeit the second they thought themselves capable of getting away with what they did to one of hers.
"If you give me your key, I'll get those things at Marzipan Terrace you asked for and have them for you here sometime tomorrow. I can ask Cinder for more of what she made for you, too, if that will help." She gives the cleric's shoulder a small squeeze before withdrawing her hand.
"What happened is between us. I'll speak none of it to anyone. Aloïs will hear you've been hurt, but nothing more. It's your story to tell or not." Her partner only needs to know why she's off to commit murder. Any deep injury by city guards is more than enough in both their eyes to deserve it. "Jon stays out of my range until well after this is done. I agree he has plenty to deal with right now, and the last thing he needs is to see a face he doesn't get on with."
She's not even angry with him. It's not Jon's fault Chris was in jail, it's the city's. Later, she'll be angry with herself for realizing she's hopped to Jon's side of the fence on fighting the city's ways directly when occasion calls for it, but that's hardly the worry of anyone in this room. They don't need to hear it, and she won't dare speak of it. Her expression darkens briefly, but a breath allows her to school it into something neutral before she picks up the bowl and rage from the coffee table then heads to the kitchen, calling softly over her shoulder as she does.
"Rest, Chris. You need it, and we'll not be far if you have want of us." She offers him a small smile before beginning to dump and stack all of the various bowls into the sink. She'll gather any used rags as well, getting them deposited by the washer on her way out the door. It's what she can do to keep things moving right now, and she will make sure it's done before she steps a foot out the door of this house.
no subject
Every detail offered about the assailants is burned into her memory. They'll need that when they go clean the city of their filth. It doesn't matter how large they are, how strong they are, or how clever they are; she is faster, lighter, and has a powerful mage on her side. They won't stand for long. Blood will be spilled and she may very well paint herself in it to add insult to the injury of their deaths. She doesn't care; their lives were forfeit the second they thought themselves capable of getting away with what they did to one of hers.
"If you give me your key, I'll get those things at Marzipan Terrace you asked for and have them for you here sometime tomorrow. I can ask Cinder for more of what she made for you, too, if that will help." She gives the cleric's shoulder a small squeeze before withdrawing her hand.
"What happened is between us. I'll speak none of it to anyone. Aloïs will hear you've been hurt, but nothing more. It's your story to tell or not." Her partner only needs to know why she's off to commit murder. Any deep injury by city guards is more than enough in both their eyes to deserve it. "Jon stays out of my range until well after this is done. I agree he has plenty to deal with right now, and the last thing he needs is to see a face he doesn't get on with."
She's not even angry with him. It's not Jon's fault Chris was in jail, it's the city's. Later, she'll be angry with herself for realizing she's hopped to Jon's side of the fence on fighting the city's ways directly when occasion calls for it, but that's hardly the worry of anyone in this room. They don't need to hear it, and she won't dare speak of it. Her expression darkens briefly, but a breath allows her to school it into something neutral before she picks up the bowl and rage from the coffee table then heads to the kitchen, calling softly over her shoulder as she does.
"Rest, Chris. You need it, and we'll not be far if you have want of us." She offers him a small smile before beginning to dump and stack all of the various bowls into the sink. She'll gather any used rags as well, getting them deposited by the washer on her way out the door. It's what she can do to keep things moving right now, and she will make sure it's done before she steps a foot out the door of this house.