The mage grumbled to himself. A damsel in distress, and all courtesy goes out the window, sure. He looked back down to his left hand and curled it into a painful fist before he slowly unfurled it, and ran his right thumb over the cauterized slash. His hand twitched. At least it would add some variety to his collection of, mostly, self-inflicted scars...There's a bright-side, right?

No. He grumbled again and trudged towards the door they'd all disappeared into. He halted back as a woman came careening out, and then slowly poked his head inside. An omen, surely. If anyone can [i]run[/i] out of a healer's house, it must surely be because the healer was so gifted that they have to tell their friends and family right away...or the healer tried to kill them with their shoddy attempt at recreating the divinity of magic using turnips from their backyard. Always a toss-up between the two.

What he [i]wasn't[/i] expecting was the distinct click of a sword meeting its scabbard. Sure, this could be mistaken for a lot of things, but the armored man with a peculiar shield and wielding a sword sure gave him a push in the right direction. He'd thought he'd heard some kind of shout moments ago, but even a paranoid mage didn't find that suspicious when they originated from inside a healer's. In fact, it would have been stranger if they [i]hadn't[/i] shouted anything.

Still, as a paranoid mage, he tucked his hand into his right pocket to grip the wood and metal handle of his flintlock before he ducked inside of the room and stepped to the side to wait his turn, and pretended not to notice the dirt he tracked in from outside.

(([@Elitestpotato][@The Fated Fallen][@Strafe][@Inertia]))