Astor shifts Infront of you, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression gruff and unkind, despite his clean, creamy white and gold trimmed uniform. He sends you a glance, as if asking for your permission to do more than intimidate. "..M'lady..,, May I take care of this?" He asks, seeking approval, clearly not fond of the burly man before you both, that kept making crude comments towards you.