"Wren...are you sure?" Rowan kept an eye on the dagger in Mara's hand, somewhat nervous about the wicked curl of her lips, which at that moment, looked entirely too much like the expression Wren wore when he was planning something inappropriate.
He inched forward on his seat, ready to intervene if she decided to test her new weapon out by skewering the first thing that caught her attention. It would turn the party into something more like what Rowan was accustomed to dealing with in his free time, but there was always the chance that Mara would accidentally stab herself instead of the basket of soft pretzels in the middle of the table which she currently stared at with an unmistakable gleam of excitement on her face.
