Fray meant to introduce himself when Catherine came over faster than he could build up the nerve. She was a wild thing, magic and joy and pride wrapped in her wet smile and quick words. He'd never had a chance to be that free. Making apologies and pulling them back. Catherine's advice sounded so silly, so much like a girl who would drink from a fountain to say that crazy was worth anything.<br/><br/>Crazy wasn't being silly in public. Crazy is when you destroy the battlefield to get rid of the soldiers. Crazy is bringing forth a celebration of bursting stones and hundreds of organized chimers for a victory that wasn't worth anything. Crazy is leaving your gates open to your greatest enemy. Crazy is destroying your body down to a head and an arm and giving up the rest as well for the hope of a few hours protection. "I've done crazy. I'm done with it. You're just not... yet."<br/><br/>Farril's hand still hovering there, Fray unknitted the leather of his glove to reveal his calloused hand underneath a mist of orange glow. He reached out and slid his hand into hers. "I'm Frank... Fray. Sir Fray. Whichever makes sense as a student."<br/><br/>Her hand was soft and small and he barely gripped it as her smile shined into his eyes. Her body felt familiar in another way. Her form not quite solid in the same way that memberss of Halter were. So used to people's hands reminding him of the tons of spent stone, to finally feel that chance of change that he'd associated with a handshake was pleasant. Holding it there for a bit too long before letting go. "Sorry."<br/><br/>Fray turned to shake Catherine's hand as well, but she was already back in the water by the time he turned to do so. Idly, He wondered whether she would feel the same as she danced away.<br/><br/>Turning back, the plates of the armor moved effortlessly, no sound of metal on metal. He made eye contact with the other man there and gave him a cool stare. Fray smirked a little and asked him, "Seems like she can't stay still long enough for even introductions." The misty magic remains of the glove slowly pulling back together into its normal solid form around his hand. He watched for the smile, a twinge at the edge of his mouth, the sign that Fray was thought of as a person, not an enemy.