"Why?" Atticus whispered, turning to face her. He flinched as she snipped the string she was working on. "I am only going to be worse off by noon. Why waste your time and attention?" He shook his head in dismissal. "Don't waste your effort."
The assassin sighed, and looked up at Dae.
When did she change so much? His gray eyes surveyed her armor, her markings. Her face seemed the same, but her hair was longer. Atticus looked back to the floor.
"The noble is . . . like a noble."