Despite a moment of indignation at being so roughly shoved aside, Swiftbeak was true to his word; he let the woman have her revenge, standing alongside her and watching the man's gory death impassively. He sat on his haunches as she began to reload her crossbow. He did his best to sit noble and proud despite the blood flowing from his wounded claw; scale and skin and flesh was ripped away, there. The injuries to his face appeared less severe if only by virtue of the thick layer of feathers hiding them, but the white down was stained red from his brow to his beak.<br/><br/>"I understand your suspicion, but I do hope my aid was enough to stay your hand until at least the arrival of Sir Morr. Since you are unlikely to trust much of what I have to say, I will leave the explaining to him; I kindly request that you refrain from shooting me, however."<br/><br/>The gryphon's right ear flicked slightly, hearing a shout in the far distance.<br/><br/>"They should be here in a matter of moments. If there is anything I can do to assure you I will not attempt to devour you before they arrive, let me know. You should not be operating that weapon further with your wounded arm, nor am I in any hurry to serve as your target. Something so large as me would be poor practice, in any event."<br/><br/>"...That was a joke."