He was too tired to deal with the romance between the reckless young pup and the bookmaker just yet, he decided, but as Sam seemed both proud and happy with the state of affairs he didn't particularly need to. They were both adults (though barely, he sometimes thought, when he was being uncharitably grumpy) and besides, some choices were none of his business. He simply inclined his head in acknowledgment at hearing that the pair had chosen the Rathskeller over Sam's quiet house, and was silently relieved that he hadn't sought shelter there after all, in the empty cold of a home that wasn't his.
The rush of words in answer to his question left him sucking in a sharp breath as he tried to piece events together. Sam went outside on Long Night? And Isla had as well, from the sounds of it. He held the breath a count of eight before letting it out just as slowly as he tightened his control over his emotions and repressed the urge to shake the gentle bookmaker into making more sense. It wouldn't work, and then he'd feel guilty and Sam would feel betrayed and rightly so. No, a gentler approach was needed with his first friend on Caido, and he gave a little shake of his head in answer. "No," he said quietly, settling his hip against a pew in the gathering space and looking at Sam with sharpening focus on dull blue eyes. "I don't. She's been missing from the Infirmary since I arrived. What happened? Is she..." He hesitated, unsure of what to ask. If she had been hurt, then she would have been in the Infirmary and he would have seen her already. If she'd been killed then surely Sam - her friend - would be far more upset than he was at the news. But what did that leave? 'Missing' didn't say much...
"Please, Sam, tell me about Isla and then I'll tell you where I've been. But don't leave me hanging like this!" There might have been the quietest edge of desperation in his voice at the end, distress breaking through the exhausted numbness as he gripped the pew with white-knuckled hands.
The rush of words in answer to his question left him sucking in a sharp breath as he tried to piece events together. Sam went outside on Long Night? And Isla had as well, from the sounds of it. He held the breath a count of eight before letting it out just as slowly as he tightened his control over his emotions and repressed the urge to shake the gentle bookmaker into making more sense. It wouldn't work, and then he'd feel guilty and Sam would feel betrayed and rightly so. No, a gentler approach was needed with his first friend on Caido, and he gave a little shake of his head in answer. "No," he said quietly, settling his hip against a pew in the gathering space and looking at Sam with sharpening focus on dull blue eyes. "I don't. She's been missing from the Infirmary since I arrived. What happened? Is she..." He hesitated, unsure of what to ask. If she had been hurt, then she would have been in the Infirmary and he would have seen her already. If she'd been killed then surely Sam - her friend - would be far more upset than he was at the news. But what did that leave? 'Missing' didn't say much...
"Please, Sam, tell me about Isla and then I'll tell you where I've been. But don't leave me hanging like this!" There might have been the quietest edge of desperation in his voice at the end, distress breaking through the exhausted numbness as he gripped the pew with white-knuckled hands.
