Adriaan pauses for a moment when Irice gives him a nickname.  "Mr. Mouser..."  He chuckles for a moment.  "Not bad, Forge Mistress."<br/><br/>Then Adriaan pauses to let John give out his plan.  When Irice mentions that they might have to fight each other, though, he goes stiff as a plank, his fist turning white as fresh snow.  His breath whistled through his teeth and his jaw works up and down ever so slightly.  No words come out, though.  Not for a while.  Killing his teammates is something he just won't do.  Not ever.  "Let's not," he hisses.  "I promise you all, no matter what happens, I will not lay a hand on any of you.  Anyone who asks me to kill you will die in your place."  Gone from his eyes is any hint of a joke.  Instead, there's just utter ice.