She could see the focus leave his eyes, even in the light of the small campfire. A faraway look that filled him and said he was far, far away. Perhaps he was even then working on some dusty scroll that caught his attention more than his travel-companion, a hired guard who had just happened to save his life, more than once. 

It was a surprisingly petty thought, one that brought her up short. She was almost grateful he was so distracted because he wouldn’t then see the embarrassed flush that darkened her face. She resisted taking another pull on her flask, thinking that maybe she’d had too much. Perhaps drink had given rise to such idiocy of thought. He had all but been a priest, living among them and she’d certainly seen that in some ways he’d taken on their lifestyle. Hadn’t that Alex chided him about it? No matter, him lost in his own thoughts would make her work easier, no doubt. She walked on her knees over to him, pot of salve in hand, circling around to see his pale, smooth back. Not a mark on him, not something that should have surprised her. But still it did. How often had she seen such smooth, untouched skin on someone her age? Not often. Mercenaries celebrated their scars, seeing them as badges of surviving adversity. But that would do little good to an ink-stained scholar, would it? 

Taking out a healthy scoop of the salve she warmed it in her fingers before applying it to his shoulders, smoothing it across the taut skin, pressing in with fingers and thumbs before moving her hands downwards. She didn’t linger, but she was efficient. Firmness and experience made the work effective and she felt knots loosen under her fingers, bits of tightness that would be much less painful in the morning because of the looseness and warmth she was giving him this night. Ideally she’d work his thighs and buttocks like she’d done for brothers at arms after hard rides but she felt little drive to press the matter. No doubt he would refuse and she wasn’t certain she wanted to push into that sort of change in their positions at this or any point. So back done she covered the pot and cleared her throat, strangely unwilling to touch him casually and break whatever thought he was on. But it was cool and he was without a shirt. They would make no progress if he took ill. 

She settled for tapping him on the shoulder. 

“All set, Sir.” She said. “Take the pot, work some into your calves and legs if you think to before you settle in for the night. It will make the morning easier.”

Then she stood, no knee walk for this retreat, and moved back to the comfort of her side of the fire. Back to her place. Settling down she pulled her leather cleaning kit from her pack. Setting it beside her she began to remove her chest-piece, with careful, practiced motions, her eyes as unfocused as Alexi’s had been, as memories of other camps, other companions rushed to the fore front. Quietly she set to work, understanding just how important well cared for armor could be.