Gauvain had been watching this stranger for a while now from his seat on a nearby bench. He was going through part of his daily routine (or rather, as daily as he could make it; circumstances did not always permit it), contemplating and letting his mind settle into a state of calm. Most days he focused on his breath, the blessed in and out of life into his body as granted by the Maker; on occasion, he let himself focus on an object or, rarely, a living creature. Today he had chosen this rather tall gentleman.

There was something peaceful about his slow movements, but really, the whole point of Gauvain's practice was to find peace even in a thunderstorm. His soft gaze broke, however, once the fellow spoke, eyes going into focus at the words. This body. With all the rifts, demons hadn't found much need to possess people recently, at least in this Seeker's experience. With the sorts of company the Herald had decided to gather to their side, Gauvain had to learn not to judge so quickly; it wasn't so hard, having been judged rather harshly in his youth for things beyond his control.

He pressed up from his seat and strode over toward the man's side. Arms crossing, he took a look at the door as well.

"Bodies are rather confusing things at times, I agree," he said in softly Orlesian-accented Trade. "But making do with what we're given is very often our only option."