[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		 saw the pallid man’s reactions, his annoyance…his reticence and he just barely kept from visibly gritting his teeth. His knuckles were white on his curved sword, but he forced himself to relax slightly, his bright—almost unearthly blue—eyes bored into the pale man’s black orbs for a moment…and then Farren smiled slightly.

His body seemed to relax, his fingers loosening on his weapon, he even switched his grip and shifted the weapon first down and to the side so it was no longer pointed in such a way that might appear threatening. An instant later he put the blade into a reversed grip so it almost ran upwards along the back of his arm. At the same time his shoulders relaxed, his once narrowed eyes lightening. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Ah, fair enough then. This place en’t likely to stay safe anyhow, best we leave before any undesirables are drawn to all those smashed vials,”[/b][/color] Farren said, his tone easy, lacking any hint or suspicion he’d been showing previously.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“I won’t trouble you any further. This clearly isn’t your native tongue. Had to test ya though…Nights of the Hunt are fraught with deceivers and brigands and beasts after all.”[/b][/color] Then Farren stepped past the pallid man so that he wasn’t braced on either side by the beastial yharnamite and the almost-skeletal stranger. He headed for the room just outside the one they’d been in up until that point.