He suppresses a brief stab of annoyance at the shouted order, but the girl does have plenty of reason to be both upset and wary. He lets it go without comment. The mule is secure and none the worse for the wear, and even if it does try to bolt, Simon is a pretty immovable object.
When he'd been tasked with chasing down mages, either new or escaped, there was never any sweet-talking or deception. He hadn't been one to resort to brute force unless he'd exhausted all other options--and there had been one or two that he'd ended up literally tossing over his shoulder and carrying off like a sack of potatoes, but he swears he'd tried to negotiate a peaceful return first--but never has he lied to a mage to lull them into a false sense of security.
Giving her back the mule's reins doesn't have to be a battleground; there's no reason to withhold them. He offers them back without hesitation--until that faint green glow makes itself visible from under the glove, and then he looks sharply up at her again.
You're going to have to come with me would be the worst possible thing to say, but nor can he just let her go on her way now without letting her know what's happened to her and who can help. His mind races.
"How'd that come about?" he asks, indicating the shard. "Got close to a rift, did you?" There's some newfound respect in the question. Anyone who could be close enough to one to be marked by it and escape otherwise unharmed deserves that much.
no subject
When he'd been tasked with chasing down mages, either new or escaped, there was never any sweet-talking or deception. He hadn't been one to resort to brute force unless he'd exhausted all other options--and there had been one or two that he'd ended up literally tossing over his shoulder and carrying off like a sack of potatoes, but he swears he'd tried to negotiate a peaceful return first--but never has he lied to a mage to lull them into a false sense of security.
Giving her back the mule's reins doesn't have to be a battleground; there's no reason to withhold them. He offers them back without hesitation--until that faint green glow makes itself visible from under the glove, and then he looks sharply up at her again.
You're going to have to come with me would be the worst possible thing to say, but nor can he just let her go on her way now without letting her know what's happened to her and who can help. His mind races.
"How'd that come about?" he asks, indicating the shard. "Got close to a rift, did you?" There's some newfound respect in the question. Anyone who could be close enough to one to be marked by it and escape otherwise unharmed deserves that much.