He waits until she's released, the Infirmary has enough hovering eyes. It's more difficult than he'd like to find time alone. She doesn't leave the library long enough, and when it isn't her in the offices, it's the Orlesian.

He doesn't want to talk to the Orlesian.

At last, she's carting some tray back up the stair. He rises from the nearest table — staked-out to purpose — without a meal, which makes it easier to slip a hand about her own and take the weight.

"Serah Tavane," Soft-spoken, a contrast to the snarling voice over the crystals. "Senior Warden Strand. We need to speak privately."