It’s a good thing they are in Minrathous; a place where that casual bit of practiced magic won’t be looked at askance. Astrid watches the gesture a little owl-eyed, though, clocking the wand. Not using a rune lighter. Not using a staff. Innnnteresting.

Probably should’ve chosen someone else for this quick little retrieval mission if she wanted muscle, but she was pressed for time: Avigd is here and getting drunker and the risk growing the longer he’s able to marinate on his own. High time someone showed up, put the fear of the Maker back into him.

“Maybe the bodyguard angle won’t work,” she concedes. “But he’s a dwarf, he’ll be smaller than you. Most important thing, I’ve found, is to just act like it; that mean stern look you said. What’s your name, anyway? I’m Astrid.”