Once Fallon was certain the wizard was unconscious and bound, she ran a tired hand across her face, unknowingly smearing crimson blood across her forehead. The paperwork on this was going to days if not weeks to get through. Already, she could hear Prewett's frustration with her leaking through his tone. Merlin's beard, what a mess.

The oaf knelt besides her, and, for the first time since seeing him in the compartment, recognition flashed across her features. He was that beater on the Cannons. The one she drooled over at countless matches with Merry. Fuck. Why did it have to be him?!

Rather than melt like a foolish woman might, she sighed in frustration before reluctantly giving him her arm. "It's fine, really. I've had much worse."