Oscar shouldn't have been surprised. He had silently walked up on her and didn't say anything. Staring down at the rose that had been just within the reach of her finger tips before she felt his presence. "I apologize, my lady," he didn't quite look at her, and his voice was deep and quiet. "I didn't mean to startle you. You just seemed deep in thought." He explained away why he had not announced himself.

It was then that he turned his face towards her, dark eyes locking on dark eyes. Gifted and gifted, though only one was known to all. "Count Oscar Wyrick," he tucked his hands behind his back and bowed towards her, stepping to face her a bit more before he straightened back to his full height. "And you are Marchioness Bryce Allemeade." he felt that she need not introduce herself. She was a well known face after all. "How are you fairing? After the attacks?"

He leveled her with his dark gaze. His face remaining almost impassive at her answer, not trying to show a bountiful amount of sympathy nor disgust. Never would that filter his features with someone like Bryce. A powerful gifted who no one seemed to give a damn chance. Typical of those born lacking a gift. Jealousy was what he chalked it up to.

"Stronger than almost all," he countered. The silence not bothering him in the least. Knowing how he'd feel if their roles had been reversed. Watching as she seemed to stare at him as if he was going to do a grand trick for her. Or attack her. He had a feeling that it was the latter that would make the most sense of all.

"There are those," he said slow and low, because he knew what risk he was taking, "who would see you and others like you collared." A fire sparked in his eyes, one of anger. That might be noted by the quick ticking of his upper lip. "And then there are some, who would find the problem to be where it has always been. The weak who are afraid." The non-gifted. "Don't feel like you need to hide. No matter what is said." Hypocritical of him, yes. But he was not a known. Which is what gave him the edge.

He expected as much. The woman had much happening in her life at the moment, he certainly couldn't expect her to ask where she should sign along the dotted line with him with a few words. He also knew that meeting with her for an extended period of time would draw eyes towards them. That anything longer than what could be seen as a few pleasantries being exchanged would cause some brows to be raised at them. It was why he had to act fast and directly for the time being.

"I want you to know that you are not alone," he told her. His posture unchanging with his hands behind his back and body facing her. "That no matter what is said," his dark gaze flickered towards the castle. Where the throne room was in particular. "The Sons are the ones who hold the blame. And many," his gaze fell back to her. "are tired of being blamed for existing."

He just needed to give her the option. He could see the mistrust in her. Perhaps she’d never do anything about what he had to say, maybe she’d come back later on to follow up or clarify. As she curtsied, he knew she was ending their quick interaction. He needed to seal this though. Knew she needed a quick reminder of him, of his words. And perhaps because his own gift was pulsing to be used. So he snatched the flower, still just a bud, and extended it to her.

“Alone is not what we are.” He disagreed softly. And should she take the rose or not, he’d bow before her. Giving her that freedom to leave as she had meant to. He hoped it was enough for her to seek him out if she should ever need it.