His offer was declined, though politely. Eyebrows slowly rose in professional dissatisfaction, but it was not up to him. It was the stranger’s right and that was all there was to it. Fingers had curled around the small beholder of transparent liquid that so effectively destroyed flourishing bacteria, but now they relaxed, reeling from the innards of the bag as there was nothing he could fetch for the injured warrior before him. ”All right,” quiet tones announced, and the knife too found its way out of his hand and into the medical container. Arms moved to cross before his chest, but it was not really meant as a defensive or hostile gesture, though it probably was unconsciously caution shining through in his body language as his face remained perfectly calm.
Jaden. ”I am Conor from Dahlia de Mai, a pack not too far from here,” the lilac eyed male revealed, finding it could be helpful to add his alliance to explain the prominent scent of the pack that owned his autumn hued coat. A gentle smile tugged at his still lips, for the appreciation he was faced with strengthened the belief that he had done the right thing; that he had chosen to save the right soul. ”What are you going to do now?” he then asked, thinking about the promised future that had been taken away from Jaden. It was not a lively story he had told, and the Dahlian could only wonder exactly why this all had happened. There must have been a reason why he had not become the leader, but it was difficult to guess if the reasons for plotting against him had been good or bad.