Lewin's eyes narrowed. A lot of things seemed not to make sense. For one, the shackles had been released and he had made his case thuroughly. The girl had no reason to escape back to shore now - her best bet was by far to stick around, at least for a while. And this stranger held her back without hesitation, although Lewin was clearly the least friendly inclined man there. His innate caution eventually won out; his mind raced, and objectively, he knew he should be careful. He steadied his feet and gritted his teeth.<span style="color: #808040">"You're awfully biased out of the blue, stranger. Why prevent her from leaving, when I am your biggest obstacle in terms of getting in? If she wants to go, she's free to do so. I doubt her overly cautious, less-than-ideally opportunistic nature will help me much anyway. And I keep wondering why my heart refuses to beat fast, even though I <span style="font-style: italic">know</span> you're suspicious."</span>Mince, his bastard sword, went from a single-hand grip to an overhead two-hand grip.<span style="color: #808040">"So, I would very much like you both to come clean. Now."</span>Something else was nagging at him. His mind kept flashing back to a tribal meeting from when he was a teensy tiny boy, but the details naturally escaped him.