[ The anger is something he expects. The drunk are always quick to temper. But the confession? That is a far more interesting prospect. How could he let Rincewind walk away now when he so clearly has something of a very interesting story to tell?

He tilts his head and then presses his palm to Rincewind's shoulder, curling his many-ringed fingers around it -- an attempt to keep him planted firmly on the ground disguised as an act of sympathy. ]

Running for your life? Oh, Rincewind. How did a man as careful as you find yourself in such a situation? I apologize. I had no idea the stress you've been under.