Whenever Niamh is fixated on something, any attempts to shift gears has prove difficult for her. A single thought can last cycles upon cycles spinning in her head, considering all the possible meanings and avenues before drawing a conclusion - or seeking the means to do so.
This time, it would be the latter. She really shouldn't be running around, really, she shouldn't, but the stubbornness to know takes priority. So, by the time she finds Goldmary, the strain on her body has undone some of the bandages that attempt to keep her wounds in check. Thankfully, at least the wounds are minor.
"Found you...." Niamh says, her monotone voice providing no means to make the sudden appearance any less strange. "Thank you for the fight...I didn't get to tell you..."
Niamh hardly leaves room to return the gesture before she continues. "Why did you say that? Before you knocked me out..." There is no sign of embarrassment, nor does Niamh sound angry or upset. If anything, her expression could be seen as confused - that it is something that she simply does not understand.
Goldmary is in the midst of verifying that manicured nails have kept their pristine form when Niamh finds her, and for a moment, engrossed as she is in her own study, it is unclear whether she has heard Niamh speak.
When she does deign look to her newfound company, there's a moment's surprise across honey-gold eyes - to Goldmary's credit, she is quick to master herself. Lips curl into a faint smile, and she sets her hands in her lap.
"And you as well. You look to have a good head on your shoulders in battle." Goldmary wonders, infrequently, if the same could be said of her. She is wonderful in so many ways, of course, but it is unbecoming to be naturally gifted at everything, no? It is only meet, then, she need put effort into her performance on the field of battle.
It takes her a moment to drift back down to earth, to process and ponder Niamh's succeeding line of questioning.
Head cants lightly to the side,
and here Goldmary hits Niamh with her most radiant of smiles, dazzling and yet just the right amount of demure - most certainly practised.
She makes to reach for the other's mask, but pulls back - perhaps it is not her place to remove the veil. Niamh can do so when she is good and ready.
"Because I meant it, silly."
A quick, extra sweep of her once-opponent, and Goldmary's perfect brow furrows.