He watched him quietly, the look on his face saying more about how much he liked the whole situation than he was willing to say out loud. He recognized the blood stains on the man's jacket, even if his memory of what had given them to him was clouded in a haze of what had been a very severe mental break. He had buried this man's body the next day. Those were the signs of the injuries that had killed him.
Something about that, and the fact that he had just been tending to the undisturbed grave of the one person he would give anything to bring back, tickled in his brain in a way that made his eyes burn and his mouth pull down in a grimace. There was something there that his sozzled brain had trouble grabbing at, but it would hit him eventually. Either way-...
"Hmm. No. You're hurt, and it's a few iles out, in the middle of the night."
And this man was an assassin. He remembered enough to know that he...hadn't exactly been working with his brother's followers, but the whole thing was hazy enough that he didn't know the exact details, and he hadn't bothered asking Wolfwood about it after the fact. That still didn't mean he felt comfortable leaving him alone in one of the cities, with innocent people.
He turned to stare at the empty orphanage a few yarz away, quiet and abandoned while it waited for everyone to return. There was too much history here, but it was better than nothing.
"Look. There should be supplies here, and no one will be coming back for a while. We should be fine staying the night. Come on, I know a little bit around the place. It's better than you bleeding out or freezing to death in the desert before the suns come up."
He turned, plodding his way quietly toward the back doors of the group home, wondering in the back of his mind if the place had had its power restored yet. Ah well, they could always light some candles, and the stove had been gas-powered, at least. He could light that with Wolfwood's lighter if he needed to.
See, my psycho band directors only let us play stuff from the 70's, or movie themes. lol
Something about that, and the fact that he had just been tending to the undisturbed grave of the one person he would give anything to bring back, tickled in his brain in a way that made his eyes burn and his mouth pull down in a grimace. There was something there that his sozzled brain had trouble grabbing at, but it would hit him eventually. Either way-...
"Hmm. No. You're hurt, and it's a few iles out, in the middle of the night."
And this man was an assassin. He remembered enough to know that he...hadn't exactly been working with his brother's followers, but the whole thing was hazy enough that he didn't know the exact details, and he hadn't bothered asking Wolfwood about it after the fact. That still didn't mean he felt comfortable leaving him alone in one of the cities, with innocent people.
He turned to stare at the empty orphanage a few yarz away, quiet and abandoned while it waited for everyone to return. There was too much history here, but it was better than nothing.
"Look. There should be supplies here, and no one will be coming back for a while. We should be fine staying the night. Come on, I know a little bit around the place. It's better than you bleeding out or freezing to death in the desert before the suns come up."
He turned, plodding his way quietly toward the back doors of the group home, wondering in the back of his mind if the place had had its power restored yet. Ah well, they could always light some candles, and the stove had been gas-powered, at least. He could light that with Wolfwood's lighter if he needed to.