[Darin's eyes snap to hers. He has no doubt that she's telling him the truth; he knows that look. He's worn that resolute look more times than he cares to admit, always when he was challenging someone's authority. He wore that self-same look when he challenged the masters of his smithing guild when they tried to declare him ineligible for his master's certification. He wears that look any time some high-born noble looks down on him, pitying his 'affliction.' It's the look of someone who knows in their heart of hearts that something is worth fighting for.]

[And Zelda seems to think he's worth fighting for.]

[All he'd have to do is lie. Tell her that he'll hurt her, that he wants to hurt her and that'll be the end of it.]

[But didn't he tell her that he hates liars? That he'd rather people be straight with him than hide their thoughts and intentions? He wears everything on his sleeve openly. He never compromised who he was even if people hated him for it. His principles were forged in iron.]

[He sighs and closes his eyes, some of the tension leaving his large frame like steam evaporating off of a red-hot stovetop.]

...I...don't want to hurt you, Zelda. I'd never hurt you...

Hell, when I heard you got hurt I was ready to find the jerk who did it.

[He glances away, huffing as he rubs the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at his own admission. After all, that's why he rushed over here in the first place, isn't it?]