Oh good, this again. Except even in the second before Amberdrake would have made some quip about charging the man, he notices that the stranger isn't exactly... high, this time.

No, distress is pouring off him like water.

"Very well," he sets aside the mending he was working on, folding his hands in his lap. Calm, always so calm, the very air around him seems permeated with it -- is permeated with it. A very low-level projection, not enough to impede a person's will, but enough to smooth the sharp edges just a little bit, for most.