The hint of a smile on Myr's face vanishes as quickly as it appeared, taking the humor in his voice with it. "I understand completely, ser. I'd intended myself to investigate its origins."

Given leave to retrieve his staff, he leans down to do just that, tucking it into the crook of his arm as he straightens. "If that's permitted," he adds as an afterthought, reaching out to wipe the glyph from the tree as easily as he might chalk from a slate. The remains of it hang glimmering in the air before disintegrating in the fragmented afternoon sunlight. "I would, of course, share my findings."

Then he frowns down at his hand, touching his thumb to his fingers and palm to gauge just how much sap he picked up. ...Enough that he doesn't want to be tracking it everywhere. "Though if not-- While I'd hate to delay my eventual reckoning with the guard, ser, I could use a moment's more time."

Carefully--well aware he might well be trying this fellow's patience, and looking suspicious to boot--he shakes his sleeves back from his hands, reaching with the clean one to extract a kerchief from an inner pocket of his robe. (Just so long as he doesn't look like he's trying to cast something without permission, it will be all right, won't it?) With it he begins to scrub away at the sap in a woefully unproductive manner.