"No delays, aye." Artaith grunts sourly, eyeing Eponine with an expression that can most charitably be described as "annoyance." A few moments later, more distant from their employer, she mutters. "Ne'er did get good with a bow. Might be past time." She frowns deeply. "If I could afford one. I'll keep you all patched up, and if anyone foul gets close, they'll see what Dwarf steel feels like."