[right][h3][b][i][color=rosybrown]Enough[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=rosybrown]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]
	Lord Bardolf eyed a couple of people sitting at his table, whom where thanking him. His eyes narrowed some at them. "Then, before you insult my home or me again with your false praise and gratitude, remove your masks so that I can see whom I am speaking. While some of the others might be more vile in their speaking at least they have had the decency not to continue to play this idiotic game of show and tell." His voice was vexed as he spoke, eying the two in particular who had refused to remove their masks as of yet but spouted out gratitude. It was more than obvious by his words and his look that he was not buying whatever they were selling and in fact had done the opposite of getting on the mans good side, if he had one. 

	Jasper moved around the table, filling glasses as needed and providing strong refreshments to those that requested them. His face remained stoic as he did so, simply watching what was going on. He showed no reaction to the verbal berating of the others. Either he was accustomed to such speeches from the man or he didn't care. Could be either or the man could have just been very good at hiding his inner thoughts. It was up for debate. Setting his things he retrieved a bottle and walked over to the pale skinned woman, pouring her a glass of something different from the others. Her drink was milky with a tint of pink to it that seemed to swirl in the crystal flute. "Thank you Jasper," she said softly as she sat there. 

	Leaning closer to Lord Bardolf she spoke again. "I thought there were more," she said, looking a tad confused. The lord of the manor nodded. 

	"Yes but some have incurred injuries and others are being escorted to the gate to face the winter as they see fit. They are not my concern either way," he said in a flat voice before his eyes went over to her. "Nor yours." The last two words came out firm. Sitting up straight in her chair she nodded and picked up her flute, taking a small sip of it as she looked down. 

	 Over in the sewing room, Rhoda looked over towards Professor Walnut and rose a brow. "Tis what I was instructed to do," she said as she went about taking a look at the wound and began to clean it with a soft linen and plain water. At the question, she did not look back up at the woman. "You may not," was all she said when asked if she may be to bold to ask how she became employed by the family. She obviously wasn't answering. "You are lucky, these wounds are not deep. A simple binding shall suffice," she finally said once it was cleaned. There where some cuts, some that were deep, but not long enough for her to stitch. Grabbing a dry piece of linen she started ripping it into strips.