Firestone Hot Springs silence can mock

The odd man - for that was what Njal saw him as, not mad, not yet - resumed his vigil over the brewing herbs. As the warden shied away there came a glimmer of glee within his ice-water gaze, one that was staunchly opposite to the fouled darkness in Njal's own. The stranger bowed his head in to the mist and drew out some of the fluid, which was then placed carefully upon the bank. He had been pacing a little before - a bit listless, wary of whatever this stranger was doing. Curiosity did grow strong within him though, and Njal was quick to act upon it. An explanation was filtering to his ears through the hissing, but he was more concerned with the stench of it. A thick herbal mixture with a cloyingly sweet citrus note - it overwhelmed him.

But there was mention of strength. The carapace was pushed towards him and, when hurried, the liquid perfumed in to the air.

Njal did not trust this man. There was something about him that unnerved the stalwart defender, chilling him despite the heat of the pools. Still, he was of Swiftcurrent; he was trusted enough by Fox to keep him around, and for that Njal's trust was bolstered. Had he known better he would have run far from Lecter and his potion - but he did not. A small flick of his tongue across the surface of the concoction did not bring him sweet but bitter. Earthy notes like pine and dirt, but gutted by the heat of the water. It was foul, once again causing Njal's face to crease. His shoulders shuddered as he reversed a step, lips smacking and tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth - burned maybe, or just resistant to the taste.

With a few sputtering coughs he finally quieted, and levelled a sharp eyed stare upon Lecter. Dubious and worried, but showing only hostility. It would take time for the mixture to truly set within his system.