Robin put his hand out, to object as Jude began to wipe up the spilled ambrosia with her nightgown.  "Um...Jude..." he said, hesitantly.  "That's probably not a good idea, unless you want to have dozens of pixies clinging to your dress the moment you step out of here.  Hrm.  Perhaps we should find you something else to wear."<br/><br/>Sir Xander, meanwhile, shuffled his armoured boots, somehow managing to look embarrassed and awkward, which is quite a trick to do without any kind of facial expression, or, for that matter, a face.<br/><br/>"Your Highness, I regret to say I will not be joining you.  By your leave, I must marshal our forces here and prepare our defenses.  I wish I could go."<br/><br/>Robin shook his head. "Peace, Sir Xander.  We all know you are needed here.  Jude will be just fine.  I will be with her."<br/><br/>"As you say, my Lord.  Where will you go?"<br/><br/>"To seek the help of the Nac Mac Feegle."<br/><br/>The suit of armor gasped, a metallic echoing noise.  "The Mac Feegle? But they're not... that is, they're..."<br/><br/>"Yes.  I'm quite aware.  But we need all the help we can get."<br/><br/>The gauntleted hand saluted reluctantly.  "As you say, M'lord."  Turning back to Jude, Xander said, "Your...Jude? It was very nice to meet you.  Perhaps someday we can make blackberry pie. I'm sure it would be delicious."<br/><br/>With that, the armor turned and tromped out of the cottage.