[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

[@The Otter]

Disguised beneath the sigh that floated in, the young man latched onto something mildly familiar. At the very least, it served adequately as a way out of the quickly deteriorating attempt at conversation with somebody who, by all rights, you moron, should have been given the chance to just [i]focus on her work[/i]. He reached upwards. The spy had a nasal fracture, more than likely, and was having trouble keeping his balance. Nausea, too, if he had to guess from the pallor. 

He came from a fighting family. He knew what the hell he was looking at. This man had befriended him before they'd even known one another to pursue the same... well, similar goals. The oldest bond here.

If he was out of commission, Rudolf worried he'd have no last redoubt to fall back to, should things turn out for the worst. Robin's mind was clearly made up firmly, for instance...

If she could summon that steel and conviction, did he see in it any lie? Any room for flexion, letting something that rhymed with what Valheim had been doing pass?

No.

The tall tricorn hat floated down to settle atop Esben's brow and orbitals, a mop of pale hair freed from beneath upon the vagrant that had cast it over.

[color=c0392b]"Better keep the light off you. Got your bell rung pretty good, huh?"[/color]

There wasn't going to be any room at all, not when that vow was what was keeping your courage alive.