His eyes were adjusted to the night … but there was still only so much in detail that he could see in pitch darkness. She was just … sitting there. Knife dropped. Mess left.

That was more unsettling than having a knife pulled on him.

So, Aslan did what he did when he didn’t want Nisa to see a mess: he turned on the light, and went to fetch the broom and dustpan. Started wordlessly sweeping up the broken vase, chewing his cheek.

He always had preferred action to words.