[She's never quite certain how to take such gestures; at one point she might have but it's been long since lost under all she learned to become, as Sharpe called it, a bloody butcher. A proper reply escapes her at the moment, so all it is she can do in return is nod and watch him head off, the dull, rhythmic thud of an ax at work filling the air as soon as he sets about it.
After an hour or so she'll come back out, a pitcher of water and damp rag in hand for his comfort. She may spend a moment or so just watching Sharpe work before she thinks to announce herself. ]
[Action]
After an hour or so she'll come back out, a pitcher of water and damp rag in hand for his comfort. She may spend a moment or so just watching Sharpe work before she thinks to announce herself. ]