Wheeling Gull Isle Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

He was off, off to wander the island elsewhere, for what? He wasn't certain. Perhaps to lick his wounds, wash off the blood in the sea salt, listen to the rain - and await until his body could handle the next fight. Licking his lips, he carefully cleaned the blood that clung to his face, reaching as far as the pink muscle would allow. 

As the rain picked up its pace, drenching the knight in a coat of water, weighing down his coat as it hugged his rugged form, muscles still protruding, swollen from the battle against the walrus as blood rushed to aid their strength. It was clear he was not all fluff as the rain slicked down the down that caped him. No ear flickered in the direction of Connor as his name was softly spoken, Rosencrantz was set on something else than to linger in the presence of others. 

As the exiled ran out in front to cut him off from his path, neck pulling back immediately while ears flattened for a moment. Annoyed. The warmth he had found before had faded recently, the cold that poured from the heavens paled in comparison to the emptiness he found in his stare as he gazed down to the woman who had once broken down his barriers. Shifting his weight off the injured side, he leaned heavily to side as he stood.

No. He began again, this time he turned into a new direction - he just wanted to get away. Connor is injured, assist him. With few words, he expressed that he was set on cleaning himself off. That bite in his tone had found its way back.