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Devlin     Devlin would receive a note when he was paying for a soda, a Sarsaparilla to be exact. A soft smile spreads across his lips as he read the letter and knew just who it was from, though he wondered about what else he might have to teach her, but then shrugged and gave a tip to Chuck before departing. Walking away from the settlement, Devlin almost makes his way to El Dorado but then stops a ways outside of the westgate, out of sight range of the normal sentries before looking around.

    Moving a hand into his jacket, he pushes a strap of his jump-suit away, releasing the grip of a pistol enough for him to grasp it and draw it out roughly, though his hand soon afterwards went limp, leaving the gun pointing to the ground and resting close to his thigh. Looking at the man it was clear he had a rough night, his hair was a mess, it hadn't had time to shave, leaving stubble well developed across his features and to top it off.. looking at his chest when he moves his jacket is that while his left arm is through his jumpsuit, it isn't through his jacket! The arm was stockstill, and when seen better the reason was easy to see, it was wrapped in plaster all the way down to his elbow and up to his shoulder.

    Taking his time to patrol the area, Devlin was starting to wonder if he had been late or if 'someone' forgot to put an extended date on when she actually wished to meet or a different time than when he arrived. What he did notice was.. there was fresh foot traffic, and not just one or two people. Looking towards the north, Devlin began to prepare for travel once again to a more secluded location for this meeting.
Elsie Surelda arrives eventually. She's a hard-working radio girl! She can't just appear at convenient times! But now, at last, she's here.

She comes wearing her long, grey poncho-cloak with the cowl neckline and the hood up over her silver hair, which has been pulled up in a crown of braids. She has a backpack on, and the BB gun slung over one shoulder.

It took her a moment to find exactly where Devlin was, even going so far as to asking one of the wall sentries if they'd seen him go by. The man points off into the distance outside the wall, and so that is where she goes. Her boots kick up dust in her wake, which clings to the hem of that blue dress she always wears. Eventually she spies the man, but she doesn't call out to him. She just walks calmly in his direction.

"You look terrible," Surelda says by way of greeting, drawing up in front of Devlin and pulling back the hood of her cloak. She's pale as ever, but 'healthy' looking as ever ... no doubt thanks to a small but constant stream of pills that keeps her going through her days. Funny: getting off the drugs would make her healthier, but far, far more haggard looking. "Are you alright?" Her voice, as always, is quiet.
Devlin     For his part, Devlin doesn't reply to get first comment and the second.. is ignored. Turning to the side, he steps around the well garbed Surelda and starts to head off once again, this time.. off the trail and into a more rural section left unpatroled, and thus more dangerous. "I was recently treated my Miss Lark, the arm will need to be set for a time again.. the other injuries have been, likewise, treated" is softly said after almost a minute of silence.

    "That route is patrolled often, if we were there, we would be noticed sooner or later, less so out here," is said somewhat chidingly but soon a smile appears on his lips as he later says, "I'm glad you reached out to me. It's nice to see you, even though you look like you're about to travel to the great white north." Tapping his finger every so often, Devlin began to tap an old melody in the silence, trying to bring something beyond their voices alone to his ears. "Also, shooting a gun would alert the patrols, your tiny one might not, though even this pistol here would, quite significantly. I've been trying to hunt down a suppressor with no luck."

    Once they were a fair distance away from the main road, Devlin would stop and turn around, his eyes moving towards Surelda's face of which he could see very little else of in fact. "Are you really wearing that much trying to not be noticed? You realize that kind of makes you stand out like a touch of a sore thumb?" is asked cautiously yet curiously.
Elsie "Do the injuries mean you can't shower?" It's a legitimate question that Surelda asks, even if it might come off as something of a rude one. Her quiet tone, however, carries no rudeness to it, but rather the mere question.

She'll follow him off the trail as he requests, though not without a bit of argument. "Who cares if they hear? Shooting practice isn't outlawed; it can't be, that would be insane." Sound and sight will likely travel quite a ways out in this wasteland, either way. The silver-haired girl pulls her hood back up as they move to shield her pale face from the sun.

She's quiet then, until Devlin decides they've reached their destination. She draws up to a stop when he turns, shifting her backpack and the BB gun at her shoulder. The question causes those big, black eyes of hers to blink once, then again at the man in a bit of confusion. "It's not so much about not wanting to be noticed," she tells him, tugging at the hem of her cloak idly. "Keeps me from getting sunburned and dusty." Both of those facts are true. "But if it helps me not be noticed, that'd be a bonus. I don't really care to have attention on me." Also a truth.

She shifts her weight, cocking one hip out as they talk. She tilts her head a bit and offers the man a very slight smile. "Thank you for agreeing to come out with me. Papi wanted me to learn to shoot, and he'd asked Akane to teach me at first, but I doubt she'll be coming to teach me much of anything now." Considering ... everything. "It'd be nice to have a bit of skill to show him when he gets back from New Rome."
Devlin     "I don't shower, I don't have running.." Pausing at the question, Devlin focuses onto Surelda's eyes, trying to look deeper to see if she was trying to make him spill a secret. "I cloth bathe, it saves water, which is rather limited. When did you last have a working shower?" Arching a brow, Devlin waits for an answer but her next question causes him to hang his head slowly and shake it. Walking closer to Surelda, he moves to bend down, tapping his brow against her's with a feather light headbutt before standing up.

    Moving his pistol back under his jacket, Devlin starts to lift a finger with each issue presented, "Idiot.. Gunshots close to town sounds like raiders, meaning people patrol there. If people patrol there, they will see and question us to make sure it's just practice. If they notice you with me, someone might make a comment, to another, then from there another, then in passing your dear 'protective papi' might hear you are handing out, in private, with me.. See the chain of events?"

    The comment about Akane raises a bit of a brow but then he shrugs his shoulders slightly and looks away, looking out towards the wastes. "If I remember correctly, 'Shooting's woman's work', I don't think he'd enjoy a male instructor for you," is said distantly while looking around, it would take a short time but a smile appears on his lips. Moving his hand outwards, Devlin points to what he was hoping for.. a living target, a few bloatflies were on the ground, working on a remains of a slaughter pregnant molerat. "They will do."
Elsie Is there a secret? Surelda certainly doesn't know if there is one, and she certainly doesn't seem to be seeking it out, if so. So she just blinks when Devlin gazes into her eyes. The question about the shower, though, makes her grin. "Oh," she says, remembering the first bath she took once she arrived. "Before this? We had one in New Vegas. My aunt liked to keep things orderly, and I certainly don't hate being clean." And clean she is, despite the dust now accumulated at her hem.

She might say more, but then Devlin is leaning toward her, touching his head to hers while she stares in confusion. Then he's done, and he's standing up again. Should she address that, ask about it? No, she supposes she should just let it move on.

"I'm going to tell him where I learned to shoot," she explains to Devlin, not seeming to mind or even notice the idiot comment. She's not very smart, it's true. Her note to him, with misspellings and bad handwritting, was a testament to that. "So if you'd rather not teach me, I understand. Because you're right, I imagine he'd want a woman doing this more than a man." She's honest about Ashur's protectiveness. "But you're the only other person I know who isn't in New Rome who could teach me, and who is willing to teach me. And I want to show him I can do this. And you, too." Because he did have some smirks to offer around when talking about her shooting.

But then, at last, the game is afoot. Surelda watches the bloatflies from underneath the hood, and then without a word she withdraws the BB gun at her side and lifts it to take aim.
Devlin     Just as quickly as Surelda took aim, Devlin moves his right hand to her shoulder and slowly applies pressure as he speaks one firm word, "Kneel.." It was easy to see he wasn't shy of using pressure until she molded into the position he wanted her to be in before saying, "When you stand you are the least balanced.. You are a new shooter, kneel, give up mobility and gain stability. Rest your elbow onto your knee.." Reaching out, Devlin moves his hand to Surelda's stabilizing hand and tries to draw it further along the barrel so she can keep a more level gaze down the sights without stretching her neck.

    "Have the butt of the gun rest snuggly against your shoulder, let the padding not have gaps, this will help with the recoil when you use a hunting rifle, or an assault rifle." Surelda, even though she didn't know Devlin that well would be able to tell a massive change in not only his voice, but his personality.. this wasn't the first time he taught someone to shoot, worst yet, he was already telling her to prepare to hunt large game, or humans, by which gun would be next. "Rest your cheek against the stock, not close to the barrel.. and most of all, finger -off- the trigger until you are ready to fire. Is this understood?"

    Looking down at the woman, he looked at her questioningly, and trying to find the flaws within her posture. Moving a hand under her trigger arm, he grips her elbow gently and draws it out, rather than letting it tuck under herself and against her chest. "There.. how does this position feel?
Elsie Surelda doesn't quite jump when he puts a hand on her shoulder, but she does lift her head and look over at him rather quickly. Just this side of a jump, really. Kneel, he tells her. She looks to the ground, and then succumbs to the pressure, lowering herself to one knee. Her face is serious; at least, what he can see of it. She still has the hood pulled up.

And he directs her. And she listens. She's very malable with regards to her body position, it seems. She takes good direction, moving everything just so as he instructs. She asks no questions, and does not argue. Move her head? Done. Move her finger? Done. Every instruction perfectly followed, and the result is her in just the position he wants her.

"Forced," she answers quietly when he asks her how she feels in this pose. "But if it's right, then I'll get used to it."
Devlin     "It gives you balance. Now, lean lightly forward, lean into the recoil, not away.. You will not be part of the front lines, not now, maybe not ever." Moving his hand onto her hood, Devlin pinches the fabric before starting to draw it back, trying to reveal her face and get her eyes out of the shade so she can see things crystal clear. "Your target is the bloatfly on the left of the corpse. Fire at will, though state before you pull the trigger, which one you are firing at.. Never fire wildly, I've seen too many ill-trained squads wound or kill their own from panic shooting.

    Walking off to the side two steps, Devlin settles his gaze onto Surelda, not looking at the bloatflies. The bloatflies at this time were on the corpse and skittering around the corpse, attempting to find a softer point to begin feasting upon. In total there were now four bloatflies, three on the ground and one hovering in the air, poised to swoop down to a spot once another of the flies gets its fill and flies away. "I'm expecting I'll be paid in meat for this lesson, lets see if I'll be paid well."
Elsie Surelda remains perfectly still as Devlin draws back the hood from her head. She squints against the renewed light and blinks a few times while her pupils dialate and her eyes adjust. Otherwise, she never moves. She holds the position obediently.

"I didn't expect to be on the front lines my first day in town, but that happened." Maybe it wasn't the front lines that the mech spider got to her at, but it certainly felt like some front lines. "So who knows."

Then? She's quiet for a heartbeat. Then two. Then three. Four. Five. At last, a single word escapes her lips. "Left," she tells him, very quietly, and pulls the trigger.

In the next moment, a BB strikes the side of the leftmost bloatfly, penetrating the thorax and causing it to leak and waver and screech.
Devlin     "Again!" is barked out, no signs of praise, pride or displeasure, his tone was neutral.. but his face wasn't. A smile began to spread across his features as he watches the Bloatfly get winged by the round, dazed, confused and badly hurt. Looking across briefly, a low hum vibrates in his throat as he watches the effect of her round burrowing into the target though he doesn't look long, soon turning back towards her.

    The small creature takes to the air, fluttering around, but none of the other creatures did, the once flying one drops down stealing the vacancy spot greedily. The sudden attack causes the creature to begin panicking and starting to dash to the left, then back, then to the north then back again, it would take a while on it's own before the creature would be calm enough to settle to the ground again.

    Walking around, Devlin waits until another shot is fired before he takes knee, kneeling down close to Surelda and looking towards the direction of her target. Devlin doesn't say anything at first, hit or miss, as he waits for the target to be killed before he extends his good arm to tap the light rifle and looks back towards the young woman's eyes, softly saying the words, "Reload, choose another target."
Elsie Surelda doesn't look at Devlin, no matter where he stands. This is a shooting lesson; she's here to learn to shoot. And shoot she does, watching the bloatfly as it struggles to right itself, to find the danger, to find safety. She breathes in, exhales, the nose of the rifle tracking ever so slightly with the bloatfly's movements. And then there's a hiss as another BB lets fly, this one striking the underside of the thorax in another gush of mutant bug goop.

Devlin moves around her, and taps her rifle. She still doesn't look at him. Reload, he says, and so she sits up a bit in her kneeling position and turns the rifle to the side, looking over it as her hands move to try and figure out just //how// to reload the damn thing.
Ashur The overprotective man the two warned about and discussed was already in El Dorado -- had returned with the caravans, which Surelda, in her relief and fatigue, might have let slip her mind; especially because, rather than any grand chain of causal connections, a an who saw a man who saw a woman who heard about a trip, he'd been looking for her in the first place, and tracking her down with something more approaching interrogation than random chance.

The first time she had disappeared on him, after all, she wound up with a job. The second time she wound up on a multi-day drug binge sleeping in alleys and getting herself in trouble. It seems to be a coin toss, then, what happens when his eye strays.

So thump-thump, thump-thump, comes the Legionnaire, the white of his armor and his power fist still painted red with blood from his kills, a splattering of brain-matter lost in the plumes of his colored crest. How much of the lesson he saw, and how much he heard, is debatable.. and they might not even know he's HIM, to be fair, the armor is fully identity-concealing.

But options are limited for who else it'd be. Roman aesthetic. Big. Stalking Surelda.

"On your feet, girl."
Devlin     Watching her dumbfounded expression, a chuckle breaks through and Devlin moves his fingers along the barrel to a catch below the main barrel. Pressing down onto a groove along it near the mouth of the barrel with his thumb he slides it across, revealing a tube. "This isn't that great of a model, the internal capacity used to maintain several hundred, but that had to be removed. The only thing it has now is a ammunition tube, it can hold half a dozen pellets at a time that way."

    Leaning back, Devlin pulls out a small canteen, similar to one used for chewing tobacco and offers it to Surelda. "Inside are a hundred pellets, this canteen costs about twenty-five caps at the arms store. That should help you kill quite a few radroaches, bloatflies and even molerats.. Don't try for the larger Geckos, but the hatchlings shouldn't have too think of a hide as long as you don't try to go through the skulls." Waiting for her to take it, it was easy to see he wasn't asking her just to take a few pellets out. "This time it's on me, though in exchange.. you know agreement. I enjoy hearing what's coming to the Caravan. If there's something..."

    Arching his brow at the sound, Devlin starts to look over his shoulder, it wasn't common the patrol would be out in force in a direction not fit for wagons or vehicles. When he notices the giant legionnaire, there wasn't much that would suggest it was anyone other than Ashur within the full cloaked armor. Blinking a few times, Devlin squints at the man, not saying a word, but it would be clear he was starting to study the construct before him with some interest. "Go along now Surelda, take 'your' ammunition. You're going to need it and you might have more idle time than you might expect, it'll be useful."
Elsie Surelda leans back a bit from the gun when Devlin reaches over to show her how the reloading mechanism, such as it is, operates. She watches with renewed interest, apparently intent to take every ounce she can from this lesson to put her own skills to better use, in the future.

The ammo, though, surprises her. It's the first time she looks at Devlin since she started shooting, black eyes slightly widened. "You're sure?" she asks about the ammo. But he seems insistant, so her slender, pale hand curls aroind the canteen to take it.

When Devlin stops speaking and looks around, she does the same. The sight of the Legionaire causes Surelda's eyes to brighten and her mouth to turn slightly upward into a small smile. "Papi-" she begins, but then he gives her an order. A rather stern-sounding order. Her smile flicks downward and tucks away again, and she moves to rise easily but briskly. Even though Ashur didn't ask, she moves in his direction, to stand near to him almost out of a habit, new as that habit may be.
Rexus Rexus puts all to shame as he lumbers in. The powerful figure in his full custom suit of power armor squints, looking at the small Legionnaire and his toy, "See son, this is what they were talking about." he comments off-handily, gesturing a hand. His roughnecks aren't weak-willed either, fanning out around their commander, cocked locked and ready to rock.
Ashur A casual inspection is enough to discern that the armor's base model is T-45d power armor. But given the way it moves, and the way it sounds, it becomes clear to those knowledgeable or perceptive that the powered components have been stripped away; rather than true power armor, this is a salvaged husk, thick as a tank and just as heavy without any built-in assistance to render it more mobile.

On the one hand, it's a sign of freakish strength that he's using that, and wandering around in it as he is.

On the other hand, there's no strength so freakish that doing that doesn't come with some vulnerabilities or another. The armor strains his reflexes, tires him out more, and obstructs his senses; all of this makes him an easier target.

A trade-off, then, between speed and defense. It should surprise none the brute gravitated toward raw protective power.

Oh, and the modifications? Aesthetic, not functional -- the helmet has a spike and feathered crest, and has been shifted to resemble the striking angles of a Roman soldier's galea.

It's also wearing a skirt, belted around the armored waist, from which hang a dozen or so crimson leather thongs.

When Surelda comes to his side, the brute gives her a look, reaches out with that blood-splattered power fist... and pats her head, smearing red across her cheek.

And then there's Rexus and friends, and Ashur turns, glances toward them. "What are you doing?"
Rexus Rexus gives a squint down to the relatively un-charismatic Ashur, "Move aside boy, Roughnecks comin through." He dismisses the lad.
     "Two up front, two to the side, cover the flanks... you ain't no fobbits." he grunts, waving a hand. Indeed, the flanks are covered, the Officer does know what he is talking about by the looks of it. "Put the skirts aside, you wouldn't want to get fragged for wearin the livery of the defeated legion, would ya? Kid?" he roars with laugher, echoed by the other grunts behind him.
Devlin     For his part of things, Devlin simply stayed quiet and at first stayed kneeled. Looking from one man, to the next, to the next and again to the next. Looking over the suits of power and unpowered armor, he faint smirk tugs at his lips, though his joy doesn't appear to reach the man's eyes, which are by now slightly lidded and largely shifting from side to side in study. Moving his right hand to his raised knee, he uses it as a point to push off, helping him stand up onto his feet and once there, his hand slips into his leather jacket's pocket.

    When the legionnaire spoke, Devlin's eyes shift, focusing onto the Militia commander, Rexus, waiting to see to what the answer was but also.. "Base model T-45, faulty variant due to original old world design.." is softly said to himself though his gaze was then onto the half a dozen or more troops around the man, taking the time to study them, their arsenal, their armor, their mobility limitations.. So lost in his study and analysis, he almost forgot the legionnaire was only a few yards away, almost.
Elsie With blood smeared on her cheek, Surelda starts to speak. But the sound of Rexus' approach and the subsequent fanning out of his men causes her to turn and slowly start to back up. Behind Ashur and Devlin, though close enough to be, well, close. She still has her hood pulled up, but the shadows can't cover the contrast of dark blood on pale skin. Nor can they hide those black eyes, wide with surprise and concern. She subcontiously squeezes the BB rifle in her hand, resting at her side.

"What's going on, Papi?" she asks Ashur, though her eyes continue to move among the men that seem to be encircling them. Only once does she look away from the threats, and that's to Devlin. Trying to see which side of ... whatever's going on ... he might be on. "Do you know?" Her speech is, as always, quiet. Easy for Devlin and Ashur to hear, but the Brotherhood goons will have to strain to hear her.
Rexus Rexus gives a smirk to Devlin, "Might be compared to the X-01, but given the mods...." he leers over at the little Legionnaire, "Better than the little armor the legion wears." He scoffs, "Legion's dead, move aside." he says as he kneels, offering a gloved hand towards Surelda, "Little girl, come now, stand up, on your own two feet."
Ashur "El Dorado has long been a trading partner of the Legion," Ashur remarks, "and this armor is of New Rome, besides; more direct allies of El Dorado, and not Legion proper." Indeed, at least in this area of the world, the Legion's might has been devastated -- and if rumors are true, even in the contested Mojave, the Horde has been so destructive the lingering forces of the Legion and the NCR teamed up.

Ashur isn't sure he believes that. Gossip has a way of getting out of hand. But the fact anyone at all thinks it a rumor compelling enough to share shows how strange the world is becoming.

"But by all means, Guardians, amuse yourselves with.. whatever your business is."

It's at this point Rexus offers Surelda a hand. "I have humored you enough, Guardian, out of respect for El Dorado and its militia's valor. Push me no further."
Devlin     Blinking suddenly, Surelda could see Devlin snap his head to the side, studying the movement of Rexus and the boldness of those words. Shaking his head slowly, the man chuckles softly and takes a step back slowly. At the same time of his feet moving, his hand also comes out of his jacket, moving it to his hip, just an inch away from his holster while he begins to step away from the pair wrapped in mechanized protection.

    Motioning with his eyes and his head, Devlin signals for Surelda to move but not far, simply a step or two behind where her guardian was currently standing, talking to the Militia commander. "So, this is the way the commander of El Dorado's military force acts?" is passively asked as he looks behind himself, trying to count how many of the soldiers were behind him or if they were too busy protecting the flanks of their vocal leader.
Rexus Rexus gives a laugh, "Guardian? You are mistaken. I work for a living." he muses, "If you are looking for your Gaius Marius, look no futher. Hence my roughnecks" He intones, smirking at Devlin, "Aye, child, beholden unto none." A hand-wave offered, "Leave these lessers to their work." he insists, "They are simply ciilians, we will show them how true soldiers act."
Elsie Seeing Rexus kneel down and offer his metallic hand, Surelda brings her own empty hand up, closer to her chest, as if to keep it out of the Brotherhood Knight's grasp. "No thank you," she says, quietly, almost pleasantly, but also nervously. Devlin's motions catch her eye, and she turns her head slightly that way. She'll follow his instruction, moving a step and a half to the side so she's a bit further behind the giant boulder of a human that is Ashur.

Some color touches her cheeks, now. She is nervous.
Ashur Ashur's eyes, unseen behind the face-plate of his helmet, dwell on Rexus. "My mistake," he speaks through the air filter, voice crisp and nigh-robotic. "I thought all of the broken Brotherhood were brought beneath the Guardian's sway."

When Surelda tucks in behind him, the former Legionnaire shifts, and offers her his arm in an oddly-gentlemanly gesture, given his usual habits. It seems he's not completely blind to her razzled and frayed nerves. And then, to perfect the unexpected..

He turns, and looks at Devlin, off a little ways in the distance. "I am sorry for your arm, bouncer," and he doesn't know the man's name, just assumes he was a bouncer in Lynnette's cantina. "I lost control. You did not deserve that. Whatever your medical fees were, consider them a debt owed you; I will repay in full, with added compensation." A pause. "You have my thanks for trying to help her. But mind your sense of propriety."
Rexus Rexus gives a slight nod, "Indeed, i'll allow it." He offers a polite bow to Surelda. "Wife... eight... is it?" he straightens, "Chivalry is yet to die." he says as he heads off, followed by his Infantry.
Devlin     "It will mend.. this time it will mend properly." Moving his hand away from his hip, Devlin touches close to the left side of his chest but under his jacket someone stops his hand before reaching that low. "You paid for your damages, for this pain I've gained research on two counts." Patting the unseen arm, his hand draws back, slipping back to its resting position along his hip.

    "The debt will be paid another time, not one to dwell on for now, as for my actions.. I help when requested, with words or with out. If you question such, you can ask and I have yet to touch in a way that was not intent on helping." Tapping with his fingers, he starts to note several instances that Ashur might be eluding to, though he wasn't sure. "Lessening the pain of withdraws, lowering tensions to cause less damage, teaching the means to survive, teaching the means to not be helpless at a turn of misfortune."

    Lifting his hand up, he motions with an empty palm towards the legionnaire to state, "I helped her despite knowing from the beginning she was one that shared your bed, your abode. I then acted accordingly. You have nothing to fear, I don't desire what you have, though it seems the Militia might. For what reason other than to draw your ire, I don't know." Turning away, Devlin looks towards Rexus, not seeming to understand the man's motives, but as he did he asked aloud, "Which chivalrous code permits attempting to woo another's wife. Isn't it that you must slay the husband and then lay claim to the wife if she pleases or if she doesn't?"
Ashur "I will not question your motives," Ashur tells Devlin, "for the thoughts of men are ephemeral things, and words so often mislead. Keep your lips off her. Keep your hands off her. She is an eager-to-please little thing, and compliant, I know well -- take advantage of that again and I will rip out your throat."

The threat is toward the broken-armed warrior, but Ashur's lowered head is facing Surelda, a mask of cold steel and martial spirit -- sharp angles, sharp points, all those feathers atop the spiked crest. That bloody hand smears across her pale white throat.

Despite the provocations, Rexus is moving off, and Ashur does not seem especially upset by him. What is a rejected hand compared to what he's truly seething over?
Elsie Surelda takes a half-step forward to slide her arm around Ashur's, eyes focused on Rexus' retreating back even as the men speak. It's only Ashur's pointed, angry tone that causes the white-haired girl to looks back at him. At first, she's bewildered and confused, her mind trying to catch up to the sudden shift in circumstances. But then Ashur's hand is moving across her throat, smearing the drying blood from some recent kill of his there as well as on her cheek, from earlier.

The color in her cheeks has faded and fled. She looks smaller, if that's possible, like she's trying to shrink herself.

She keeps her eyes on Ashur, and doesn't say a word.
Devlin     Upon listening to the legionnaire's reasoning, Devlin shifts his eyes towards Surelda, tilting his head slightly. "Hmm.. I could see her being as such, though I didn't think she was that weak of will." Closing his eyes, the man rolls one of his shoulders and nods his head slightly, returning his hand to the pocket of his leather jacket. "I will not touch her legionnaire, worry not, though you may wish to keep her close if she's so willing, while I will not tough her, those of the settlements might not be as like minded."

    Looking towards Surelda, he dips his head slightly towards her before standing upright again. Looking up for a change, Devlin looks towards the sky, squinting while looking for the sun before looking back down again, assessing the direction he was standing. "It's time that I depart, it's been too long since another contract has been taken, I will be making my leave and wishing both of you an eased day." Looking towards the ground before his closed his eyes, it was easy to see he looked a little too closely to the sun's glare but he managed to direct himself south towards the main caravan trail and towards El Dorado.
Ashur Ashur has already heard the story, and so the man's reassurances and barb fall on somewhat deafened ears. He withdraws his bloodstained hand from Surelda's throat -- see there the print upon it, like a crimson bruise? As if she'd been branded by his fingers and the grease of his cold metal palm. A flex, and the arm she'd looped her own through tugs her a little, until the lumbering behemoth and his prize are both in motion. She might look like a shrunken, frightened songbird, that sultry voice of Radio Lone Star, but she probably can't flap her arms and fly away.

Probably. If that happens, the Legionnaire will be rather surprised.
Elsie There's no surprises in her today, it seems. Surelda lowers her head once her throat is free of his hand, though indeed his mark in the blood of someone or something else remains. The hood falls over her features as she tilts her head away from Devlin and from Ashur too, turning and walking along with the large arm that tugs on her slight hand.

She follows, willingly and silently.