[color=yellow]"Don't worry so much, old man. If I run, I'll be sure to go through you first. Ha."[/color]

A bare-faced lie, but it was always good to make an impression. Jonathan patted Andres on the shoulder as he passed, making sure to leer dangerously at the grandmaster. He'd leave when he damn well pleased, and there wasn't a thing the crazy old bastard could do to stop it. He slouched after the duo, making sure to snag a bottle of wine as they passed the kitchens on their way to the armory. He quickly redressed and armored himself, years of practice making the movements mechanically tedious and simple. He finished by buckling the haft of his axe to his belt, following a little ways behind his fellow former prisoners as they lead the way into the hall that held the rest of the newly-formed Shepards, bottle of wine swinging by his side. 

He glanced around, barely batting an eye as he recognized the creepy girl who had solicited his services previously. From what he could see, only two of the other 'Shepards' even looked competent, a bearded man who looked as if he'd had his fair share of battles and a stoic young man who was bound with muscle. The rest of them would die before their third battle. He wouldn't even [i]need[/i] to make a break for it. The fighter sneered at the thought, hefting the wine bottle higher so he could work the tip of his long knife into the cork. He needed a drink.