Eyes wide with confusion narrowed into an angered glower in reaction to Gerald’s threat. Jillian could not fathom the hatred that the name Remdal brought up within her ally and was caught by surprise just how vivid his response was. Surprise that had quickly turned to irritation when he promised to kill her if she did it again; the mere threat was enough of an affront to her dignity and well-being to cause a veritable flood of uncontrolled fury wash over her inside like a heat wave. Yet she too kept a hold of herself, the two sorcerers awkwardly staring at one another with stony faces and stiff hands. The moment was short-lived, mercifully, and Gerald was the first to slump back into a mellower mood, suddenly appearing quite drained. It took a few heartbeats before Jillian, too, relaxed and calmed her nerves. Perhaps they were both still too stressed out after the day’s events, and in face of those to come. Talking about their troubled lives had perhaps not been the most prudent decision on her part.

“We don’t have much of a choice, do we?” she mused softly, averting her gaze and lazily looking into the fire pit. “We’ll make it.”

After a handful of quiet moments, she turned her attention to Gerald once more: “I’m sorry, Gerald. About calling you that name,” she apologized reluctantly, uncertain if she had anything to be truly sorry for. “And about bringing up all these things in general. We’re all quite on edge I think. Maybe I should’ve waited.” Even if she hadn’t, it was a good way to repair the infraction caused by her earlier blunder.