As Lumara voice's cut through the awkward silence, Logan grunted something unintelligible, glaring darkly at the door as he stood up. Still clutching the font of the dripping blood that coursed out of his nose, the dark-haired man leaned his head back in the attempt to stop the fluid leaking from his nose. After carefully raising his body up to standing position, the dark mage moved back toward the wall and used it to support his weight as he began to make his stumbling way toward the door. Logan chose this time to actually answer Lumara's inquiry about his nose, although the spellcaster wasn't in any mood for any more of the hated questions. He spat out the next few words, lacing them with as much venom and hatred as he could. [b]"Some [i]stupid[/i] oaf hit me in the face with a chair."[/b] A tiny fraction of time passed as Logan continued his faltering journey across the seemingly swaying room before a single thought cut through his black mood, striking true at his inquisitive nature. He paused, mouth slightly agape, staring at the Wyvern Lord with slightly clouded eyes. [b]"Lumara, what was the end destination of this journey, anyway? It slipped my mind to ask."[/b]