“Oh no,” David added just after Aileen, “no interruption at all.” The fleeting, tight-lipped smile that passes to Aileen, pairs with this response. His own Companion thrashed at the Woman, aching to find out just who was superior. A feral screech resonated in his blood but he gave it no heed. His Companion sulked, hurling terrible insults. Instead of doing what his Companion wanted and be it from habit or just upper Midwestern politeness, David stood offering a hand.
“Supplicant David Regan,” David's voice was limed with his reticence, “ma'am. Supplicant of Hunger. David is okay.” Adding just after that, “If that's okay?”
Quietly, David gestured to a seat nearby for Supplicant Bingen only retaking his own once she's comfortably ensconced.