Jone is a bit behind Gabranth, and not so keen to ignore a nice rock to sit on. She's been waving at the crowd up the cliff, trying to look like the blood definitely, obviously coloring her armor isn't at all hers.

In truth? She can feel something torn in her shoulder, but it doesn't feel right to be ruinous. She's pretty sure it stopped bleeding.

She sits next to Ben, and watches Gabranth's cape flutter behind him.

"His loss," Jone says, pulling out an oilskin. It contains water, warmed by the fight, but still a welcome comfort. She hands it off to Ben once she's had a bit for herself. "I reckon you did better than I, me first time."