Bastien has to twist halfway around to observe what is happening on the other side of Richard’s horse, and then not much of it. The moment he tries anyway nearly strains a muscle in his side. In the next he’s urging his horse forward, past Richard’s, looping behind Marcus’, and coming to a stop a polite-horse distance from Derrica’s.
He’s watching Marcus and Richard with unbroken attention, while he leans backwards to tuck the dagger into a saddle bag. No concern that Marcus will do any harm, the way he might to Fitcher. It’s only interest in the particulars of the interaction, signs of guilt or innocence, evidence of who either or both of these men really are.
He’s watching them, but he’s sighing to Derrica: “I really wanted to surprise her.”
Not with a furious, personally-wronged mage, in an ideal world. Ideal would be a friendly chat where the evidence was slowly laid out to form the unmistakable shape of it was YOU. But he’d have made due.
no subject
He’s watching Marcus and Richard with unbroken attention, while he leans backwards to tuck the dagger into a saddle bag. No concern that Marcus will do any harm, the way he might to Fitcher. It’s only interest in the particulars of the interaction, signs of guilt or innocence, evidence of who either or both of these men really are.
He’s watching them, but he’s sighing to Derrica: “I really wanted to surprise her.”
Not with a furious, personally-wronged mage, in an ideal world. Ideal would be a friendly chat where the evidence was slowly laid out to form the unmistakable shape of it was YOU. But he’d have made due.