Chatter rang amongst the local band of refugees in his clinic as they filtered out through its wooden doors, returning to the dampen streets of Darktown as the sun began to dim. It wasn't a particularly busy day for the mage, and Anders couldn't decide if that was a blessing or a burden casted upon him by the Maker himself.

His hands began to busy themselves absentmindedly, attempting to start and pack up for the night, until he caught a glimpse of your tousled and bloodied form.

This wasn't the first time this had happened, and he knew better than to wish for it to be the last. "And just how much trouble did you get into this time?"