Please, don't belittle your kindness,
he said as he sipped his second glass in one gulp. Being the odd thing in the room was nothing new to him. He learned to read it in their eyes, in their joy, maybe even in their relief, that someone stranger, something more dangerous had arrived. Being an outcast without first being known was part of what it meant to be a mage. His gaze is unfocused, and his posture is relaxed, as his mind wanders back to distant days. As he looks through the empty glass, he has a slight smile on his face. The words from reality blurred as they were replaced by memories of laughter and friends.
His eyes blinked a couple of times as the voice of his rescuer brought him back to reality. Is there any difference...
He spoke softly, mostly thinking out loud. People, he's learned, can be just as horrific as monsters. But not her; she went out of her way to help him, so he should be less concerned and more forthcoming. He knows very little about the free marches, so knowing someone wouldn't hurt.
Crooks ambushed the party I briefly traveled with. I went out of my way to assist but then deviated off the path, making it difficult to return.
His words were clear, but his memory was fuzzy. He suddenly felt a sting deep within his mind. Flashes of images and the sound of steel and magic begin to overwhelm him. I apologize; I seem to have hit my head at some point and am having difficulty recollecting myself.
He bites his lower lip, looking down, worried about his friend. From what he recalls, it appeared to be quite a terrible mess. But he pushed it aside and focused on the present. Where am I, if you don't mind my asking?
He was concerned that he had taken a wrong turn. He was walking aimlessly after the battle. He remembered falling and then... he woke up outside the bar. He is aware that there are gaps in his memory, but he is unsure why.
