Xen records all the details she can, shaking her head tentatively.  "I would doubt that simplicity.  They are calculated.  Either they mean to divert your attentions, or they<i>want</i>you to chase after them."  The wiry and lean elven woman shifts a little uncomfortably at the notion.  "Of course, the fuck do I know.  I don't understand them."  She gives the wounded one more looking over, trying to maintain her hardened mug, though sympathy shows in the softening of her eyes.<br/><br/>When Aeryn starts to buckle, though, Xen is moving immediately.  She holds her axe in her off-hand, balancing its weight by holding it mid-haft, and slips her other arm under the healer's shoulders to hold her steady.  The young human woman finds strong arms protrude from the leather and steel of her armor, the long-muscled limb warm and hard, but the skin soft.  "Right.  Enough of the show-- thank her profusely with coin and esteem later.  Where's her hut?"