[ He feels rather muscled into that handshake, but has no real objection to it, though his grip is even weaker than usual at the moment. But hands are an intimate thing for any dedicated arcanist, and Caleb's hands tell a great deal about him, work-rough palms with long, squarish fingers that manage to be graceful despite the calluses that mark him as a man who spends a great deal of time writing.

In Caleb's experience, those who lead with a proclamation of virtue are often veiling more sinister intent. But he is also aware that his experience often lends itself to paranoia, so while wariness is his default, he also tries to keep an open mind. Sherwood's slip of the tongue does catch his notice, but doesn't tell him much. Too many possible reasons to go making assumptions just yet. ]

Caleb Widogast.

[ As usual, that is all he offers. Lightheaded, it takes him a moment longer to collect his thoughts than it normally would. He's good at playing the polite young man when he needs to, and that seems like the best way to feel out what he can expect here. Sherwood mentioned a deal, and those always go both ways. ]

Your help is appreciated, Herr Sherwood, but I am not so sure what you mean to do for me. Am I being kept here for my own sake?