Mezolene remained entirely still, only moving to sip at her beverage over the last few minutes, watching curiously as circumstances developed. Her chain danced around her wrist with a soft rattle each time she replaced the cup on her saucer. There was a second after each long swallow that she took to adjust the cup, as if she were not entirely certain it was centered in the ring of the saucer. And then she would lift her eyes back towards the bar for a few moments, then repeat the whole process.<br/><br/>It was times like this that Mezolene felt the social advantages of being a psychopath far outweighed the negatives. It was certainly a lonely existence at times, but loneliness was for the boring. If a person wasn't good company for themselves, how could they be worthwhile companions to others? Mezolene was relatively certain the natural distance her skewed perspective afforded her allowed her to appreciate people and their interactions on a considerably higher level than most. It was akin to the difference between a wine connoisseur and a drunkard.<br/><br/>When she met a person, she liked to piece together what she could from observation alone before conversation, often going so far as to skip the discussion part of interacting with people when she felt comfortable that either she had nailed it or the truth of the matter would be less entertaining than the life she had made up for them. Most Scarlet Companions were people watchers, regardless of if they were hunters or lovers. Mezolene was no exception, and there were few things she enjoyed more.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, her night of quiet observation was not to be. As the outdoorsy gentleman and the bar wench made their way to her with the ill man in tow, she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was a feeling most commonly reserved for voyeurs who had been sighted from their place behind the peephole. She had been more curious to see more of his plight, rather than she was interested in being of assistance to the man. The whole thing left a bad taste in her mouth, like a dinner theater that encouraged audience participation right after the first bite of the meal.<br/><br/>As keen an observer of human interaction as she was, Mezolene Myndar knew what was coming unfortunately, because there was a sizable percentage of the population that did not understand the intricacies of the Church of Diana or the domain of the Golden Lady. The Goddess of Love and the Hunt, her followers were students of anatomy only in so far as it pertained to killing and pleasure.<br/><br/>Of course, that did not mean she COULDN'T be of assistance to the wounded. Simply put, healing was a hat her order didn't wear very frequently. It was akin to asking a banker to explain charity. While certainly a Usurer knew charity existed, it was likely they were only versed in how it pertained to tax exemptions. Further as a Scarlet companion, she was most versed in Mercenary practices rather than Mercy. Their blessings came with tangible expenses, the more desirable services having quite dear costs for the client. And so it was amusing to her that the ranger spoke of empathy to the drunk five tables down, when Mezolene was equally if not more morally bankrupt.<br/><br/>Fortunately for the sick man, while she was not generous by nature, she was a keen observer of etiquette. While charity did not warm her heart nor pay the bills, anything else would be impolite. Doubly impolite during Winterfest, in fact. And she was nothing if not courteous. The boorish never got far in life and in her experience, seven out of ten times, selfless acts were rewarded in due time.<br/><br/>And so, as she always did in a situation where she was tasked to aid those in need. As they approached her, she smiled pleasantly and asked what she asked all of her clients, "A pleasure, I am sure. My name is Mezolene Myndar, a Scarlet Companion. May the Golden Lady Diana lessen your burden through me?"<br/><br/>It was at this point the stricken man stirred and began to straighten his clothing. Mezolene watched wordlessly as the man came to his senses and tried to compose himself. After a few adjustments, he sauntered off towards the bar, leaving her with the barmaid and the ranger. She offered a bemused smile to them both, "It is not often that her blessings come so quickly. You are welcome."<br/><br/>At this point, she did not think his ailment was alcohol related, but drinking could not help at this point, whether his actual ailment were physical or mental. A part of her was curious what exactly was wrong with him, but not so curious she was going to unsheathe her hand for free now that he clearly wasn't dying, "How else can I be of service?