Ragnar watched absently as the guard bowed low before retreating back to his post. He barely registered the man's movement, barely felt anything aside from the envelope crinkling softly as he crushed it in his clenched fist.
Circe's eyes darted to his tightly squeezed hand. Her gaze lingered there for several seconds, drawn to the tension in his grip, before slowly lifting back to his face. She noticed the hard set of his jaw, the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, and the way his entire body seemed to have gone rigid, as though bracing for an unseen blow.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
With how stiff he had become, she wasn't certain he had even heard her. After a moment of hesitation, she reached out and rested her hand gently on his forearm.
"Ragnar?"
