"Oh, now, I have precious little staff left as it is," Azwel replies. "Then again, they're all fit and presumably good at running."

The door is unlocked with that loud sound peculiar to large keys and pushed open. Azwel, still dressed the same but very well-scrubbed, now, eyes her wryly. "I'd rather not destroy my own home in a fight but, if I must..." He lifts his gauntleted hands again, stepping back.

The dead body on the floor doesn't faze him in the slightest, but the sight of Rip in the too-short dress makes him blink, his stance wavering. "Oh, dear," he says. "I'd forgotten...."