"It's merely a scratch, woman," Rider roughly pulls his arm away. "You fear too much. It is not the Master's job to protect the Servant!"

The remark is cold and angry. He doesn't mean it to be. But he should have been faster. She shouldn't have been at risk in the first place. Rider hates this feeling; as if he's failed her. As if he could have done better.

"Assassin is dead, one less Servant to be concerned with," He grumbles, looking over the wound and evaluating it for poison. So far, so good.