[center][h1][color=Darkred]James Hartnet[/color][/h1]
[h3]The Deacon Arms Tavern, Inverness[/h3]
Interactions: Archer of Red [@vFear]
Mana Remaining: 158/210
[/center]

[color=darkred]"I think I'll take you up on that, Archer. Let me know if anything comes up though, I may not be a servant but I can still put up a fight."[/color]

Draining the contents of his glass, he pulled a £5 note from his back pocket (courtesy of the man whose car he stole) and slid it, folded, under the empty glass before he made his way to one of the empty rooms. The Owner of the Tavern was going them all a massive favour letting them hide here for the night, the least James could do was pay off some of the drinks. He tossed his bag onto the floor in front of the bed, and placed the gun case onto the bed before locking the door. He unlocked the combination lock on the gun case and popped open the latch, but stopped before he could pull the weapon from its case. It was, in many ways, a mirror of himself: A harsh and unforgiving product of both Magecraft and Crime, against Himself and those around him. A quick exhale through his nose, and he lifted the Mystic Code from its nesting place. Wordlessly, he began his maintenance on the weapon, carefully inspecting and cleaning each component when it finally lay in pieces and then meticulously replacing them into their rightful positions with a practised hand. He wasn't sure how long the whole process took, but he was glad for the minimal interruptions. 

When he was happy with the finished product, he lowered the weapon onto the bed before slipping a silver pendant off of his neck. The pendant was a gift from Amelia, a silver sparrowhawk. That was her nickname for him, 'Sparrowhawk', like 'Songbird' was hers. Lifting the rifle by the barrel, he looped the silver chain around the barrel of the weapon, a symbolic gesture. He was fighting for her sake. He checked the time only to see that it was late. He replaced Mana Zero back into its case and locked it shut, spinning the lock to a random combination and sliding it under the bed, out of sight. He was quick to wash himself before lying on the bed in a towel, eyes gazing aimlessly upwards. For several minutes he stayed like this, before abruptly sliding himself under the covers and turning onto his side, attempting to salvage some kind of sleep tonight.
[hr]
[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/156808813687603201/353511841315422208/Servant6.png[/img][h1][color=goldenrod]Caster[/color][/h1]
[h3]The Deacon Arms Tavern, Inverness[/h3]
Interactions: Olympia Whitehall [@Vocab], [s]Rapist[/s] Rider of Red [@KawaiiKyouko]
Mana Remaining: 500/2000
[/center]

Soon as he had received his Master's message, he had done as she instructed as efficiently as he could, using a barrage of attacks to slow the artificial human as best he could before swiftly making his retreat. He quickly assured her that he had made it away safely before recalling his 5 bronze swords and reshaping them into a large [url=https://orig10.deviantart.net/7428/f/2007/350/3/d/heroes__mechanical_horse_by_jesusdesaad.jpg]horse[/url] and 3 sparrow-sized [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/0b/e6/b5/0be6b57140a065b5bcf9b738a31d785d.jpg]birds[/url]. Using the bronze mount, he quickly made his way to the tavern at which she had said to convene. He arrived outside the tavern, but didn't proceed directly inside, instead going to stand amongst the shadows of the building as he watched through his birds' eyes for possible threats, much like a mage might use a familiar.

Satisfied with that their enemies had not managed to follow them this far, he dispelled his horse, adding two more birds to his network of pseudo-familiars before shifting himself into spirit form and entering the building properly to avoid disturbing any of the other Master/Servant pairs present. He watched with distaste, however, as Rider placed two glasses in front of Olympia and began to slowly cross the tavern as he fought against his rising temper. He didn't need to lose it again, considering last time he did it cost him his nephew. He managed to reach her just as Rider shifted her seating position and materialised into physical form in time to wipe the tear from her cheek, placing himself next to her, on the other side from Rider, before taking the glass from the table and moving it further away before lowering himself so that he was level with her.

[color=goldenrod]"I'm sorry I took so long Little one, I was trying to make sure we were safe here. A battlefield is no place for you, no place for any of the Masters here I know, but you mustn't let yourself stumble here. You will heal, in time, if you let yourself heal. As Rider said, You are so much stronger than you believe you are. For now, Vent if you wish, and then you need to allow yourself to rest."[/color]

He finished with a gentle smile before standing and turning to face the green-haired woman that filled the Rider Class, stepping a little closer so that he was on the other side of his Master with his back to her. His smile had quickly fallen away, giving way for a stern and displeased expression to settle. He lowered his voice so that only the Mongol rider could hear him, purposely avoiding sounding sharp but letting his feelings known all the same.

[color=goldenrod]"While I appreciate the attempt to comfort my Master, Rider, I do [i]not[/i] appreciate you trying to do so in this particular way. I do not know how [i]your[/i] people deal with this kind of problem, but I am sure that inebriating an underage girl will do more harm than good. She has less time to heal than is ideal, I agree, but a crutch won't help."[/color]