"Sir Griss, correct? I apologize for not inquiring your name earlier."
Anna walks up to her allied mage once things have been temporarily settled at the Black Eagles' medical tents. Her desire to jump right into the next battle is quelled by the need to meet with her teammates of the previous round. To thank them for a nearly flawless victory, yes, but to get more acquainted with those living in the monastery.
The need is twofold for this mystery man, seeing how in retrospect...he took some rather risky positions for the healer of the group. Sure, with the opposition being three melee units, one of them reaching him is practically an inevitability. Even then, there were some instances where he seemed to "egg on" the enemy to target him, particularly when he was fighting Xander.
"I am Anna, a recent faculty member of the Officer's Academy. I once again must thank you for the assistance in today's battle. However...if I might suggest, may you try to play it a bit safer when it comes to engaging the enemy in the future? If we are to lose our healer, especially in the midst of heated combat, our chances of victory can very well dwindle. And that's the last thing either of us would like to see in this mock battle, don't you agree?"
Anna's question is followed with an extension of her gloved hand, meant to represent a positive response and signal this is all merely constructive criticism.
"Yeah, but leave off the 'sir' part." Griss sits on the ground, legs crossed as he fiddles with the bandages around his arm, making sure they're tight to keep the wound underneath shut until the end of the tournament. There's a generous respite to regroup before marching into the fray yet again - far more generous than war, he would note, but this is a game anyway - and despite his behavior in battle suggesting the opposite, Griss knows not to let injuries fester if he can help it. He pauses his work long enough to shoot a look up at his red-haired ally, then flashes her a sneer.
"You picked it up from that dragon." He's surprised she'd even continued to address him with a title, given the way he'd terrorized her and her brother in the woods a month ago, and barks out a laugh at the memory, discordant and seemingly out of nowhere in the moment. With the wave of one hand, he decides that he's done with his bandages and uses the other to press back up to his feet.
"Look, Anna: I'm not a knight and I'm not a professor, so I got my own rules." He looks at her outstretched hand quizzically, tilts his head, then starts to amble away from her. He stretches his arms overhead languidly, half-testing the gash across his side. The fresh scab tugs but doesn't break.
"And the pain's the fun part, so you're wasting your breath," he scoffs, then pauses to throw a grin over his shoulder. "Besides, I'm still standing, ain't I?" He whirls around suddenly, gesturing with both arms at her like he's presenting her to some invisible audience, and laughs harshly. "And wouldja look at that: so are you!"
