His skidding eyes finally stopped to focus in on Therese's face. If there was no imminent danger around... Caradoc looked at her closely. He took in the lines of her face, her curled brow, and soft features. It had been almost five years, yes, but Therese hadn't seemed to change much. Time had matured her face, but as it would anyone.
Letting out a silent sigh, Caradoc unclenched his grip on his wand. "It is," he agreed, and felt the faintest of smiles form on his lips. In this moment, it felt... relieving to be around such an old, familiar face. Therese had been there from the beginning, apart of the group that he had do distinctly called and believed to be his friends. Now, half of them were dead and the other half would want him dead--- he was lucky that out of all of them, Therese had been the one to find him.
"It is," he repeated, this time with much more vigor and emotion. His hands slipped out of his pockets to hover over her arms. He didn't... Caradoc again felt torn, unable to decide how to act. He was happy to see his former friend, alive and well, but knowing what must come by the end of the conversation...
Caradoc let his hands fall to Therese's elbows, and he quickly tugged her toward the side of the path. "What are you doing here?" he asked suddenly, his brow knitting with concern. Perhaps she... well, he wasn't sure, but it would ease his paranoia to know what exactly Therese Bonaccord had done to manage locating him, here.
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