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Andrimar eyes HORUS, expression lax and eventually warm as Zevemar and Io vouch for his "innocent" inclusion in their matters. As for the fight itself, Andrimar's [abbr=Insight= 10 + 3: 13|FAIL]eyebrows raise and he slowly nods as he takes in both Zev's all too small explanation and Io's grand speech[/abbr] on how the fight itself started. He relaxes, straightens his back, and manages to tame his wild hair until it is back up in a casual updo. It must have fallen out in his rush to make sure everyone is okay.

"Well, I am glad you were able to defend yourselves, and you, HORUS," He reaches out and gives your hand a firm shake, HORUS, and he seems to ignore the stiffness in your smile. "Thank you for aiding my son. You are not from around here, right? I would love for you to join us for dinner, just to pay you back for your help and give you a little taste of, er, Alanla home cooking."

Andrimar bites his lower lip and elbows Zev, unable to hide his soft chuckle, "Well. It's an elf twist on Alanla cooking. I might require some aid in the kitchen, though, if any of you want to help." He bows his head in a quick thanks, "Come, come along. It's best to be inside after dark as of late." And Andrimar begins walking back towards the street he came from. 

For those who choose to follow him and [abbr=DC to Beat: 14]have half a mind to glance around through the darkened streets,[/abbr] you may notice a shift in the shadows, or the glint of something metallic of the few and far between lamp lights. Those manage to see through the dark, dark Illian night: for a second you swear you see a figure in one of the passing allies, rolling a poster or paint onto an empty brick wall, and when you pause for a millisecond to scope it out further you find a cloaked person. They turn to you, just for a moment, and you are greeted with a reflection of yourself in their completely featureless, mirror-like mask. The mask lingers, and then turns away, hidden again by the hood. The person returns to rolling on the poster after the brief pause and seems to pay you no mind.

You manage to catch a glimpse of the poster if you walk by it; it seems to be some sort of artwork of a woman's shadow, backlit by a holy blue light. There is no text. You are free to stop and inspect further if you wish. If not, you continue to follow Andrimar back home, where he welcomes you into the fire-warmed living room with open arms. 
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