It's instinctual, to accept being the living shield between the threat and an ally, and Davrin consciously decides not to dwell on Spite of all creatures falling into the category of someo-thing to protect. He simply hefts his shield up, sword drawn and ready for the Old Woman before them to turn into a rage demon or the like, and presses onward.

If Rook were here, all those notes and little details would no doubt have been read and categorized. Davrin wasn't Rook. He noted the stuffed animal, the general decor and layout of the room, but didn't stopped to read what, likely, would be helpful insights into Lucanis. Some that might help now, some that could help later, if they continued their hunt after all this. He was too focused on the threat ahead.

"I've only got time for the demon I know. Go on, get on with it."