Loxley, for his part, has healed from any fresh scrapes he's acquired over the past month. Some nicks and bruises from the skeleton invasion, but nothing being good friends with at least two healers and a few healing supplies couldn't rectify. He offers to take the bottle from Richard, and fill both their cups.

A glance around as he does, as if registering the cosiness on a delay. "Makes a change, doesn't it?" he queries. "Abjurative domes of magic in the middle of a field were always so impersonal."