ɪᴛ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ then crossed his mind to check the latter half of the book, so that he might have actually seen the difference between the two sorts of writing: one simply doesn’t read a book thus, after all. He’s reminded now that this one doesn’t look the literate sort at a glance, but perhaps there is something noble and thus privileged beneath the surface; if not, perhaps his guide is more on the illustrative side.
…Whatever it might be a guide for.
"Oh, no ─ I looked through only a few pages, from the front of the journal. At the least, I had yet to read these writings of yours, this— ‘guide of sorts’." He himself is inclined to frown then, the further he digs into this chance matter, the more perplexing it all seems to become. It is no place of his to feel that sort of discomfort, and yet he cannot help but feel that something is a touch…off, somehow, about his new acquaintance here continuing the journal of another, almost as if to claim it as his own. Needs must, he can appreciate: bound books and even parchment could well be something hard to come by for the common folk, so who would one be - were one in such a position - to refuse to put to good use such a discarded treasure, with pages yet to be filled?
Then something occurs to him.
Shortly after this silent realisation of his, the stranger rises from his seat across him, both hands on the table for support, as if to make his leave. His deed for the day is done, as he had made sure to himself he would see to, there is no further reason for him to continue pestering the other with his passing interest ─ as already admitted, the thing has nothing to do with him personally anyway, other than that he had found it, and for all his questions thus far he has likely already found out all he can; that, of course, as well as the fact that Ringabel was - and still is - without his lady companion. Judging by what attention from him the young thing had demanded the night previous, it’s difficult to imagine that one had left, or even would leave the inn without the other: and he hasn’t any desire to become somehow entangled in whatever engagement might ensue between the two.
"But," he begins, stood tall over the table, "again, do pardon my disturbing you at this time. It is perhaps best that I leave you be now: I shouldn’t want to come between you and your…ah, pre-established company when she joins you. Excuse me."
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