Lorne continues to surprise him. This time, Dain doesn't even try to school the surprise out of his expression. The man is a study in contrasts; a guardsman with seemingly no ability to smile, a penchant for children's snowball fights, and a fierce protectiveness of the Profane. A Profane who, it turns out, Lorne doesn't even know.

Then again, Detlef is a similar study; a Profane with no ability to hide. Is everyone in this village so peculiar?

For a long moment, Dain doesn't move, or speak. He simply stands in his arrested departure, looking at Lorne, trying to decide if the urge to give in is because that course of action genuinely makes the most sense, or simply because he's curious. One is dangerous; the other is also dangerous, but in a very different way.

...Well. Nothing lasts forever. "All right," he says, and immediately feels nervous energy flood through him, as though his very body is appalled at his decision. "I suppose I can spare time for one drink."