While Minerva's comment had gone unheeded by Fleo, she was pestered with a dual sensation of indignation and guilt when Jamie hobbled out from the bar and single-handed transferred the unconscious Damian indoors.  Even for a normal person, the muscular, leather-armored limp body would have been a troublesome load, but given the nature of Jamie's injuries it must have been doubly uncomfortable.  Fleo had asked for help from one of her teammates, not imagining that the guild master might take responsibility and go as far as to do it alone.  As Damian slumped into a chair, Fleo instinctively moved to make sure that everything was alright.  Her frustration had undoubtedly eaten away at the stability of the dusty bandages she had given Jamie, though a quick analysis confirmed that the constructs held together still.

It was hard to stay concerned with the conked-out S-class wizard, however, with Candy in the house.  Playing with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment for the newcomer's sake, Fleo spectated his antics atop the table.  After downing a couple of sweets, the boy proudly displayed his magic for all to behold, though Fleo found it ridiculous.  She had to admit that magic based around candy was very original, but it did not seem at all practical.  Her assumptions seemed all but concerned when the boy's eyes rolled up into his head and he abruptly went catatonic, obliterating one of the few wholly-undamaged articles of furniture in the hall, and leaving a dent in the floor that made the bandaged woman wince.

The next moment she was surprised yet again.  The skull-rattling roar of Mithera caused her to jump in a momentary panic.  A few seconds latter, when the sudden fear had settled, Fleo chanced a look at the being that had made it.  Though she didn't know Mithera's name, Fleo guessed at first glance that she was full of herself.  Of course, dragons -famous, magnificent creatures of legend that they were- were entitled to expectations of grandeur, but the specimen in front of Fleo didn't quite live up to the expectations that the books had filled her with.  Mithera's roar had been the biggest, most awe-inspiring thing about her; Mithera herself seemed like a small dog with a big bark, trying to get enough attention to prove how big it was.  All of this, however, was merely impression, and Fleo was well aware that most people contradicted impressions once she got to know them.  It was a convention that she, in fact, relied upon.  Outwardly Fleo gave off the air of an exuberant, ditzy child, but anyone she had ever been able to truly call her friend knew that her youthful enthusiasm was merely a tool by which she sought to appreciate the gifts life had in store for her.

Fleo realized that she was staring, and averted her gaze from Mithera.  Instead she focused on the energetic blond -Karn, wasn't it?- who inspected the comatose Candy sprawled on the floor, those massive, ungainly jawbreakers still fixated on his arms.  Fleo tried to picture herself wielding them, and almost laughed out loud.  If Candy was strong enough to lift those things, perhaps there was more to him than met the eye as well.  

She almost met the gaze of Zero, but happenstance kept them from locking eyes.  The black-haired boy emitted a strange vibe, one that Fleo couldn't read.  The voice of Mithera roused her from her curious attempt to do so.  For the first time Fleo became aware of Mithera's injury, partially clued in my the conversations she had half-listened to while paying attention to Candy.  [color=C2B280]“A week can be a pretty long time given the right company!”[/color]  She said cheerily.  [color=C2B280]“You scared the dust right out of me a few seconds ago.  What was the matter?  Can I make you anything with my Dust Craft?”[/color]