Olberic's eyes widen slightly. "Would you not prefer the company of Sister Ophilia or perhaps H'aanit...?"
She chuckles softly, trying in vain to hide a wince as she stretches and rolls her shoulders. "No, I would not. The Sister is sweet but she and Alfyn are trying to mother me to death, and H'aanit...I would prefer your company." She tilts her chin, gazing up at him through her thick lashes. "If you are willing." Primrose keeps her expression carefully neutral as various hints of curiousity and discomfort flitter over the big warrior's face. In a former life, she would have made a meal out of a man like this just for the sport of it. Olberic was different though. Perhaps she was different now, too.
Her musing and the knight's growing unease are interrupted by a knock followed immediately by the door swinging open. Alfyn strides in, his cheery voice calling out a greeting as he rummages through his satchel. The young apothecary sorts through his various remedies and keepsakes, chattering away without taking any notice of the two people in the room. "...so that's when Zeph mentions this tincture, and I thought of it today and figured it might work just great on that scar of yours, Miss, and...oh! Hey there, Sir! Didn't see you there! Did you need some medicine, or were you here flirtin' with our poor wounded bird here? Not really fair to pick on the poor girl when she's down, Sir Knight, but maybe that's how they do it back in Hornburg, eh?" He beams broadly at the pair, completely oblivious to their awkward silence.
Olberic shifts his weight, clearing his throat. "Actually, I was just about to check in on H'aanit and Therion, see if they've discovered anything new for us."
Primrose frowns slightly, annoyance rising to replace the despair she'd wallowed in a few moments before, but she quickly smooths her expression as Alfyn approaches to check her dressings. It was difficult to maintain her customary air of irritated disinterest around the perky apothecary and her current train of thought about Olberic definitely needed some more exploring. Later. "Do come back and let me know what they've turned up, Sir Olberic...that is, unless my keeper here is willing to let me take a stroll later...?"
Both men objected to that idea; a little too quickly for the dancer's liking, but for the moment she was in no position to argue.
"Now Miss, we can't just let you scamper around town, you might pop a stitch or worse!"
"My Lady, we only just got you back to your feet, we can hardly let you risk yourself so soon."
She sighs softly, drumming her nimble fingers on the coverlet. They weren't wrong, exactly, it just galled her to be told to sit and stay. "Well, then. I guess you'll just have to come fill me in later then, lest I get restless and decide to go pry information out of some people my own way." She looks directly at Olberic, an arch smile playing about her lips. "Perhaps I'll nap a bit, if Alfyn ever finishes prodding at me."
Alfyn gasps in mock horror, clutching at his chest. "Prodding! Well! Up with that shirt then, and let's have at it!"
Primrose complies, leaning back against the pillows and lifting the hem of her oversized linen shirt to expose her slender, well-toned abdomen. While that particular expanse of skin was nothing the men hadn't seen before, particularly considering her normal revealing attire, for some reason a flush crept up Olberic's neck at the sight of her faintly tanned skin. "Right. I shall leave you to your duties, apothecary. My Lady, if you will excuse me."
"Do come back later, Sir Olberic."
Olberic sketches out a brief bow and strides out the door, closing it firmly behind him. Primrose stares absently at the spot he recently vacated until a soft cough from Alfyn draws her gaze back to him. "Hmm? You said something?"
"Now, why d'ye have to go and torture that poor man, Miss. He doesn't strike me as your normal victim."
The dancer narrows her eyes slightly, seeing the seemingly oblivious country boy in a new light. "I'm not sure I follow, Alfyn."
"I'm sure ye do, Miss. Sir's a good man, and I'm not judgin' your ways in the least, mind, but he doesn't strike me as the type to do anythin' too...casual, like. Y'know? Not meanin' any offense." His hands move quickly and surely as he talks, cleaning her wound and changing her dressing with hardly a downward glance needed.
"I'm not torturing him, and you would have to work pretty hard to offend me," she answers firmly, her eyebrows drawn together in a thoughtful frown. "Olberic and I were just...getting to know each other a bit better, that's all."
"Mmhmm. Just have a care, Miss. That one's got a past that might not be as checkered as some-" Alfyn scratches at his head, avoiding her gaze before continuing, "But a past nonetheless. You never know what might fall out if you go shaking too many trees, y'know?" He finishes tying off the bandage and steps back to admire his work without waiting for her reply. "Magnificent! Ogen couldn't do any better himself! Now then, you'd best eat whatever's on that tray and get yourself to sleep, Miss Primrose. Everyone's been taking turns sitting vigil, as it was, but since you're feeling more yourself again maybe we can relax the guard duty. Just a smidge."
He smiles at her, tucking her blankets around her like a child. She finds the gesture oddly comforting and yawns in spite of herself. "Maybe a nap isn't the worst idea."
"Fair enough, but I'll expect you to eat something as soon as you're up. Don't make me send Tressa in to sing her suppertime song!" Alfyn waggles a finger at her admonishingly.
Primrose blinks at him. "She has a...nevermind, of course she has a supper song. I will eat something shortly, you have my word." She burrows deeper into the blankets as the apothecary exits, shutting the door behind him. Alone with her thoughts at last, her mind flashes to Simeon's sneering face as he looms over her dying body. She wills the image away, replacing it with the memory of Olberic's powerful arms as he cradles her, carrying her off to safety. A smile curling her lips, she drifts off to sleep.
