A tight hand clung to Mythrend. Able's once slightly amused expression had become stoic. His anger toward the others beside him subsided to the emotions that started to shake him like the shadow-man's voice. Their questions just overwhelmingly piled on top of his own. What would become of him when restored to full power? Was honor the only thing keeping him to help them in return? Still, Able was silent. These questions wouldn't help his cause, only his hope would. He drew in a deep breath, as well as a gain of confidence; his hope would help him survive. 

With a dramatic turn, Able came to leaning a his staff with a soft expression of amiability on his face for the crowd. "I am looking forward to working with every one of you. May we find a prosperous future ahead of us."

His words were genuine, he knew. He couldn't have asked for a better group of companions to do the impossible. Admittedly, he hadn't the slightest clue of who they were, where they came from, or what they were after, but they could fight. They could possibly not kill each other in the process if they kept the one damsel's mouth shut, and the other from throwing a tantrum. He secretly thanked that the other man that didn't pose a threat to him as well. This place felt too much like home, it's holy serenity leaking from it's cracked walls. These people all reminded him of his travels, Bandits, soldiers, queens, and the inexplicable appearing before him. He was ready to feel the sun on him again, take another breath before the chaos ensued.