His eyes light with warmth as he nods to her, and one hand reaches out to gently touch her arm, compassion, and a certain hope there, as it swells in him. Diana always gives him hope, and as he thinks about it, he grins wider.

Old words come to his mind and he speaks them without hesitation, remembering what they mean, in the old languages, in languages that maybe are not real or maybe, well, are from another world.

"Z'par servu, com'ii, t'leilue." At your service, friend, always

A promise and a bond, born of blood, battle, and hope.