He propped the broom against a wall as he beckoned her over.<br/><br/>"Come let me take a look at you. And then we can talk about what happens next. And let's face it - it's I that should be thanking you. If it wasn't for you - for taking this - I'd be two half-hospitallers. And you don't feel peculiar, you feel helpless. At least that's my take on this. You're not used to be being... babysat by a priest with delusions of chivalry." he was smiling broadly as he inspected his companion.<br/><br/>"It looks like you're doing better than I had anticipated. So if you're very good - and promise not to strain yourself - you can have a broom. In fact, not just a broom"<br/><br/>His eyes were bright with humour. No longer travelling, no longer being responsible for so many, felt like a weight had been lifted from him.<br/><br/>"If you're really lucky I might give you a shovel or a pickaxe!"<br/><br/>He hadn't answered her about the others. They had indeed just left. There'd been an argument. They wanted to feed the bodies to carrion birds and Sebastian - well, he wanted to live here, and rotting flesh wasn't top on his list of smells. Nor, for that matter, was funeral pyre. So instead, he buried them all. Arrayed in a heap in one corner of the room was all the useful gear that he'd salvaged. He'd not yet began to look through it - that was a job for a rainy day.<br/><br/>"I've not actually been entirely sure how to proceed. The last time I held any kind of tool was back when I was about yay high. Given the size of this place, we could easily spend the next 20 seasons working and not actually achieve anything. My thought, therefore, was to take you on a tour of your domain, Lady Marcher. Marcher Lady? Lady of the Marches? What do you prefer?"