"And how would you defend yourself?" asked Erskine - not quite a snap, because he was a little too preoccupied, but definitely with something approaching pointed annoyance. "Throw insults at them? Tell them where they were last night? I wouldn't think what you're wearing would make any difference there. Apart from perhaps making them unable to take you seriously."

He wasn't being fair, really, and Erskine knew it. For one thing, giving up Necromancy was a hell of a feat, and apparently about as far from a walk in the park as oil was from water. He respected Wreath for that, he really did. But he'd be damned before he'd go in front of anyone else wearing this thing when one of the Elders didn't have to. In fact, strike off that last part entirely. He was really just resentful of a surprising amount at the moment, and Wreath insinuating he could get out of wearing these ridiculous robes simply because of practice with the Temple's dress code did not help.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I might be overreacting. Corrival, you're not blind, and you can be nasty to people. Why can't you just tell Tipstaff we're not interested? It's logical. Wreath just brought up logical points. Like defending ourselves."