There was grumbling, muttering and shifting among the troupe turned bandits as the Scribe set to work. Martin watch him like a hawk, stepping close and his eyes narrowing as he took in the words as best he could while Alexi wrote them. Katherine did not. She kept back a step, certain at this point that Martin would do her charge no harm but uncertain about the others. There were some bitter faces in the crowd, ones that might be capable of taking matters into their own hands. Not everyone saw legitimacy as a boon. Even so it never moved past grumbling for which Katherine was grateful. 

When the letter was written, the scratching of the pen nib ceasing and Martin was stepping back with the paper in hand, Katherine bothered to look over at them, her jaw set. She wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about Martin just then. He’d threatened her after all and while it was [i]just business[/i], she hadn’t realized he’d been in that business and was still adjusting her mental picture of him. It was a hard thing to adjust to, she’d fought at the side of mercenaries who had oft-times been opposite her in other battles, but that was the way of things. She supposed in time she’d forgive Martin, he hadn’t actually tried to kill her after all, but it felt strange, immutable somehow. She also felt more than a little foolish for so often dismissing him as a sometimes-bed warmer for Florie and little else. Who else had she underestimated? It did not do good things for her self-esteem. 

“Well then.” Martin said looking up from the drying letter his rich voice made even richer with approval. “That’s well enough, t’was a pleasure doing business with you, Sir.” He said and made a silly, foppish half bow and then his eyes caught on Alexi’s full name and his brow furrowed as if trying to recall some detail. It didn’t seem to be forthcoming so he shrugged and nodded at Katherine,

“I’d be fairly grateful if you didn’t mention this to Florie, she might get a bit put out over the whole thing.” 

Katherine snorted which was neither agreeing nor refusing and Martin could tell from the set of her jaw that he’d get no better answer than that from her on the matter. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He thought he might sweeten the pot though, such as it was.

“We will need to tell the man who employed us for this gig something about how it ended. As a courtesy I’ll let you dictate what tale you want told.” He waited before Alexi, the letter drying in his hand, the men’s grumbling mostly settled as the forest woke around them.