"Yes, if you do find time in your busy schedule to entertain me," chuckles the warlock, his eyes catching the widening of the assassin's before glinting with a little bit of his own teasing pleasure. "You may find that curiosity is best satisfied sooner rather than later."

As the apartments come into view, the elder slows his steps; his attention drawn not to the garden - lush as it is - but to the way the space is arranged. He pauses upon the threshold, the scarlet fire of his gaze sweeping the area as if he is measuring the courtyard of the lodgings rather than admiring it. Exits and entrances, pathways and rooftops; ever the Nomad, ever the escapist. Most faithful to his name and to his instincts. Still holding the bridle of what passes for his caravan, he tilts his head while looking back to his guide.

"Efficient," he says at last. Not praise, exactly, but approval lives close to it. "And the beasts? Where shall we be leaving them?" The lanternlight catches his face, carving sharp lines and deeper shadows, red eyes steady and unreadable.