When Gar hefted his axe, any defused tension returned. The half-elf pushed his cloak back a bit, pointedly letting his hand rest on the hilt of his blade. Not drawing it, but making sure it's seen. "I think you ought to heed your little green friend,<em>Hin</em>. You wouldn't want to show up to your tailor with a bunch of holes already poked into you, hmm?" He tilts his head towards the East road. "On your way."