In so many ways, he's like a big dog. One of those enormous things from the mountains, half hound and half-wolf, torn between their dual instincts. Eskel wants to curl up in her arms, wants her affection, wants her warmth and presence even as he's skittish of the implications and for all his bravery in the face of death, he's afraid of this new world in which he finds her, far from the freedom of their respective occupations when they had met.

He attempts to run his hand through her hair, only to find it about as hopeless as he should have expected.

"At least it's only now and again." He assures her. "Lest your head housekeeper exile me from the palace for the trouble it causes your maids."