[h1]Cyare Staunton: Not An Enemy, Then?[/h1]

"Oh." The Tactical Mage uttered the single syllable calmly, processing all of the information this 'Angel' had offered up quickly and efficiently. Up close, it was much easier to tell that [s]she[/s] he was male. The indicative traits were largely obscured at a distance, but at this range they were self-evident. His story checked out as well, offering up a perfectly acceptable explanation for why he had been following her. A story sold, in part, by the authenticity of the nervousness involved in answer. Her hand subtly shifted back up the scabbard towards the hilt of the blade, away from the positioning for a Mordhau strike it'd been in. "Alright. My apologies."

She turned in a fluid motion and continued approaching the tub, leaning her sword against the wall adjacent and depositing her towel on a chair. The robe joined it. She'd already changed into her swimsuit in her room, so she just needed to remove the loose shirt and pants so they didn't get wet when she stepped in. 

"Carry on with whatever you were up to, then."