#geddoe.

The mercenary rumbled low in his throat in response at being called an old man, objectively speaking he was compared to nearly everyone in the castle-- save her. If they didn't have decades of rapport built up, maybe, just maybe, Geddoe could drum up some thing close to feeling the tiniest bit of offense about the remark.

"Must be my age catching up on me." His dry humor, or what little passed as humor, came out in his usual deadpan. "Or maybe it's the drink."

His gaze fell to her hand from a moment, his glove keeping them from sharing something closer, more intimate. He closed in space, the words for her and her alone, despite being the only people at the bar.

"I've...regretted much." He managed. "But when it comes to you? Very few."