Summer turned her head away, refusing to mention that /she/ had asked /him/ to escort her, not the other way round, and jabbed Mordred in the side with her fingers under the table. Elisabeth merely nodded and said, “You must be very persuasive, then. Summer is a independent sort of lass, and she can usually take care of herself.”
He cast her an ‘I know’ look before returning to the conversation at hand. “Not really,” he tells her, setting the goblet down, “I know, Summer is very independent, one of her admirable qualities, but things are getting dangerous. I have no doubt she could handle herself, but Morgana – I know exactly what she is capable of.”
“You’ve encountered Morgana Pendragon? And survived to tell the tale. There must be more to you than meets the eye.” Elisabeth toyed with the food on her plate. “What would that lady want with my daughter, Sir Mordred?”