It's not unlike a cat staring at nothing as Giles watches the threads of the Wyrd tangle around that promise. He's tempted to bind it, it's such an open promise, to always be wecome, but then he remembers the last time he'd bound a pledge without the other party being aware. How easily that could have broken one of the scant few friendships he has in this place.

Giles snaps his eyes away, he'd be glaring at the bedsheets if he weren't keeping his expression carefully composed in neutrality. A chill breeze picks up in the confines of the cabin, and when he finally speaks, low and dark, it's nearly drowned out by the cracking of dry leaves

"You should be careful what promises you give me"