The Sister’s Ire quickly eclipsed Katherine’s which was just fine. It allowed her the luxury of being amused by the situation and amusement was much preferred over fury. She’d had enough negative emotion for the day, thank-you-very-much! So she stood back and was greatly entertained by the comedic gold of the moment, especially in light of the fact that she wasn’t certain how many more light moments there would be. 

The cooling numbness of the salve on her cheek seemed to be spreading through her body and she found herself looking at the well-dressed dandy with something like idle interest as the scene unfolded. Often in the wake of a battle, when death had been so near many of her fellow Mercenaries, like so many people who danced with death often, experienced the urge to thumb their noses at death by vigorously pursuing a celebration of life. She wasn’t above such celebrations herself though she wasn’t given to too much licentiousness, her disapproval of the church notwithstanding. But sometimes she indulged and just then, with the victory of having survived her first bit of combat since her return to the field flush in her system she considered this Charles, just for a moment. He looked like the rich sort who would want nothing more than a tumble and came with no flea’s. Her standards were not particularly high and he fit the bill well enough, but one look at her Employer’s red face and she squashed the idea.

Discomfiture was a very bad way to start a working relationship. She’d saved his life for certain, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate her tossing away the concern and care he’d taken towards her dignity and honor in trying to shield her from Charles only to dive into bed with him. Pity that. 

“No apologies needed, Sir.” She said waving his concerns away as Charles wove off into the night. “He is not the first, nor will he be the last, to assume such things about me.” 

She looked back at the all but slammed door of the Nun’s quarters, tossing a belated thanks towards its solid wood before turning back to the red-faced Scribe who had hired her. It was sweet that he’d thought to protect her and it made her want to grin at him, despite her wounded cheek. 

She ran a finger along the numbed and puckered flesh near the stitches on her face, avoiding the salve that kept it clean and numb. 

“Thank you.” She said to him. “She knew her way around a needle, this won’t leave too bad of a scar. Shall I walk you back to your quarters or take my leave here?”