Atrius stood in the sand garden for the moment happy to be prod along by the monks. The girl was still on his mind, but even more so was the nagging feeling he'd been used. He did not care much for that feeling. He tried to distract himself by looking at the expertly kept sand. He followed the sweeps and circles with his eyes, but ultimately gave up. He didn't fear what the monks would do to him as much anymore. What could they do to him? He would hardly let them do harm to his person. Still, what about the maiden. She was defenseless. If the monks were as scared of her as they let slip then she might be in for trouble. Still a large part of him was resolved to wash his hands of floating maidens and long-forgotten ruins. This place couldn't hold him as injured as he was, which wasn't debilitating just painful.<br/><br/>Atrius sized up the monk immediately expecting the worst. He seemed affable, however Atrius was not willing to trust anyone just yet. "No, I'm fine..." he replied crossing his tanned arms. He was quite muscular from years of hard work, "I have a sneaking suspicion that you have something more worthwhile to discuss with me, and I'd rather it be out and done with, if you do not mind." He wasn't angry but he was distinctly curt. He was tired of gods and their thrice-damned machinations, and he felt that he'd only seen the tip of something much greater.<br/><br/>He was not in the mood for games and the monk was being rather oblique, at least unintentionally, especially considering that his fellows were screaming bloody murder, "Listen, friend, I've got nothing on my hands that I'm not willing to walk away from right now. I didn't ask for strange metal hallways and strange glass; naked maidens floating maidens and queer lights, so I'm a hair's breadth from simply walking out of this damned temple and going home." He held up his fingers to demonstrate the miniscule remainder of his patience, "So can you please start making a little sense?" He uncrossed his arms and ran his hands through his dark, chestnut hair. He was tired of the ominous feelings and lack of control that formerly existed in his life. The fact that it only happened in the span of an afternoon infuriated him further.<br/><br/>Even his minor injuries seemed intentional like he was being ever so carefully steered in some direction. Atrius fixed the monk with a glare and began tapping his foot. He wasn't going to tolerate many more cryptic words and idle banter. No one died so as far as he was concerned the monks were just hemming and hawing about some trespassing, girl or no girl. He didn't owe anyone anything.