People so rarely push back, given Felix's, ah, prickly demeanor—and the yoke about his neck that is his new collection of titles. But Dorothea was never deterred by his anything, back in their Academy days; it's hardly surprising for her to hold his gaze now, as coolly self-assured as ever, and there's a not-so-small part of him that admires that about her. Has always admired that about her, because she's far stronger than she appears.

Which is undoubtedly why she's still in Enbarr? Still standing despite everything she presumably lost, and Felix finds himself wondering, briefly, how heavily it all weighs on her. Not that he pities her, or that he'll ever apologize for the role he played, but—hmm. It's one thing to discuss the cost of war in council chambers; coming face-to-face with it in an alleyway is another thing entirely, and you know, it isn't an entirely pleasant way to round out his evening.

Felix, however, refuses to shy away from anything, and so Felix puffs out a quiet breath.

"No, thanks."

He brings a hand to his hip, studying her for a moment longer before glancing back toward the building they both escaped from.

"But the others are. Stay here long enough and they'll find you." A beat, and then, somewhat wryly: "You have quite the following."