"Sir Ollie, you… You're a witch?"
Hearing the stunned words from the Inquisitor, a small smile formed at the corners of Ollie's lips as he carefully withdrew his power and stopped his carving.
He hadn't meant to put on a show for Diarmuid, he'd only been looking for a way to pass the time while he waited for the latest 'guest' of the ancient fortress to prepare himself for the evening's meal. But, from the way the older man was staring at him, looking like a fish pulled out of the water, it was clear that a few explanations were in order.
"The tunic suits you," Ollie said, smiling more openly and gesturing with the curved knife in his hand toward the chair opposite him. "Lady Ashlynn thought you might prefer something less," he started to say only to trail off when he realized he didn't know how to express the intention without sounding insulting.
