Expecting the unexpected, the Dragoon sentry waves Falke through with a commiserate, “That time again, ‘eh?” To which the Fixer can only chuckle and nod, understanding full well that people who are taught to take orders are not that great about opening up. His probing questions have occasionally found a potentially dangerous outlier here and there, which is why his work continues, but for the most part, it’s a dull afternoon of pulling more than yes, sir or no, sir from betwixt their teeth.
The route is familiar, flat, and so he does not use his cane at the moment, which is tucked under his poncho-covered arm.
The man lingers under an alcove, waiting for the trainer to call a break when the antics and chirps of a - yes, a dragon - draw his attention to the weapons shed. Stepping out across the soggy ground, Falke makes his way over to see what the creature is going on about, and when he pokes his head around the wall, he’s more than surprised to see the young woman.
“Oh, hello. So you’re what the dragon is going on about.” Said with a smile, of course, Falke does his best to be disarming.
