Kris frowned internally at the girl before him. He watched as her eyes shifted constantly, and her stance wobbled from side to side. It was like she was putting everything into disarming him. When she answered his question with such energy and cheer, he couldn't help but avert his eyes to avoid another blush from invading the sanctity of his proud face.

Then, she grabbed his hand. Kris's efforts were for naught. He flinched and made a weak effort to draw his hand back, but she had grabbed it with both of hers. Her face was filled with determination and cheer. **"A-ah..."** he stammered. Then, he coughed to cover the tremble in his voice, and jump his brain back into action.

Indeed, she was here, like he was, to become a Knight of Altea. Could it be, perhaps, that she intended on disarming him? If she couldn't do it by striking him the back, then she must have refocused her efforts on unnerving him mentally somehow -- perhaps through some sort of ancient spell. His grandfather made him study magic, to an extent, in order to counter it if it should be used against him. Kris felt confident that this was certainly a possibility. After thanking his grandfather mentally for such foresight, he realized that he had to be the strong in order to resist this fiendish magic. He forced his eyes back on the girl, but could not hold direct eye contact. Instead, he found that staring at the space between her eyes would allow him to seem strong and resist the witch's magic orbs, even as she maintained hold over him with her demonic, backstabbing, warm, soft hands.

**"Yes, you would be...correct."** he said. The quiver was gone from his tone, but it still sounded as if he were holding back a gulp. His eyes had gone from wary to half-panicked. **"I've also come here to become a Knight of Altea, and help Prince Marth. It's what I was born to do."** 

Talking eased his tension slightly, and loosened his expression. However, his hand started to sweat -- one more so than the other.