He felt a stab of annoyance as the boy wallowed in self pity, literally throwing the bottles he held back to Atticus. He didn’t even try to catch them, knowing the small vial he held was worth too much to risk dropping it. His depth perception was ruined, anyway. The glass thudded heavily on the rug and, happily, didn’t smash.<br/><br/>“You’ll cost Master Ryan even more if you don’t heal up soon. Take them. Look after yourself. I have to go an talk to the staff.” He had to go talk to the Master of the House, but saying that might make Anel even more upset. “Look, I don’t think anything about anyone here. Having an opinion isn’t what I’m paid for. What you do, that’s between you, your client and Master Ryan.”<br/><br/>He gathered the three bottles and the tub, and got to his feet, careful his shoulders are relaxed, his hands were not tense and his wrists were turned out. His head was slightly tilted. Everything to carefully say with his body, I won’t hurt you.<br/><br/>“Here,” he offered the bottles again. “Have a bath. You’ll feel a lot better.”<br/>