Stocke tosses his friend a startled stare over his shoulder, then a dry look - of the very 'what were you expecting, not a place full of transformed people?' variety - but waited until they were free of the monsters' den with the door shut behind them before answering.
"You think I'd let anyone but me eat you?" With a dead serious tone. Not unusual - Stocke certainly had a tendency of hiding teasing behind a straight face, leaving people guessing whether he was serious or not - but what was odd was the moment of vertigo Stocke experienced when he realized even he wasn't... completely, one hundred percent certain he wasn't being serious right now. He didn't want Rosch eaten, period, obviously. But as icing on the cake, something was rubbing Stocke wrong about the thought of specifically other monsters considering it...
Right. Rather than worry about that right now, he added, "Nobody in there would have touched you. Not unless they wanted to answer to me, and then to Greed and the rest of us." And especially not when Stocke was right there - there was, Rosch might note, a sword strapped to his red-clad friend's side, even if the sheath looked shorter, was shaped differently than it would have been for the longsword Stocke had favoured back on their home continent.
To Rosch's potential relief, the way the shade was leading now quickly spilled out into larger streets, rapidly emptying of people - or at least, people travelling alone - now that night was truly falling. Absently, the shade dodged around patches of light cast by streetlamps - not with any particular urgency, but as if out of habit.
Stocke kept himself slow, made sure to fall back to walk at Rosch's side instead of leading him. Now that it was getting darker - and now that they were out of a part of the city where Stocke could guarantee good behavior, and would be setting out across uninhabited parts of the peninsula as soon as they cut through Vandare - he wanted to stay extra close.
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"You think I'd let anyone but me eat you?" With a dead serious tone. Not unusual - Stocke certainly had a tendency of hiding teasing behind a straight face, leaving people guessing whether he was serious or not - but what was odd was the moment of vertigo Stocke experienced when he realized even he wasn't... completely, one hundred percent certain he wasn't being serious right now. He didn't want Rosch eaten, period, obviously. But as icing on the cake, something was rubbing Stocke wrong about the thought of specifically other monsters considering it...
Right. Rather than worry about that right now, he added, "Nobody in there would have touched you. Not unless they wanted to answer to me, and then to Greed and the rest of us." And especially not when Stocke was right there - there was, Rosch might note, a sword strapped to his red-clad friend's side, even if the sheath looked shorter, was shaped differently than it would have been for the longsword Stocke had favoured back on their home continent.
To Rosch's potential relief, the way the shade was leading now quickly spilled out into larger streets, rapidly emptying of people - or at least, people travelling alone - now that night was truly falling. Absently, the shade dodged around patches of light cast by streetlamps - not with any particular urgency, but as if out of habit.
Stocke kept himself slow, made sure to fall back to walk at Rosch's side instead of leading him. Now that it was getting darker - and now that they were out of a part of the city where Stocke could guarantee good behavior, and would be setting out across uninhabited parts of the peninsula as soon as they cut through Vandare - he wanted to stay extra close.