*As she beckons him he stops, staring at her again. Slowly, his head shakes, back and forth, left to right and left again. He declines her challenge as he props the limp Leyla on his shoulder* Not now, Irina. I cannot guarantee that we will never fight in the future, but you won. You got what you wagered and you killed another dragon, another one of the Hayes. We'll meet again, but for now, let us both rest. *The two of them, staring at each other seem like polar opposites: From an outsider's perspective it seems as if Mortar would be the one taking the moral high ground as the wretched abject Vileblood stands drenched in blood. But both knew that they are the same, one way or another. Except Mortar has their father's sword, while Irina only had their mother's*