Emlyn's expression stayed the same, though his tongue rolled behind his lip in the most subtle twinge of agitation. [i]'Emlyn right?'[/i] Of course it was; how had his name not reached Roland's memory? It must have just been the stress of the morning weighing upon him, so he checked it off and realigned his grin. 

When Roland extended the invitation, that grin widened. Usually he was left to gather his information from gossip strings about town, which, while often entertaining, were often tainted with bias. It wasn't often he got to sit in on the [i]real[/i] deal, and get the stories straight from the horse's mouth. After all, he was a tailor; what place did a tailor have in a murder investigation? There were things even [i]he[/i] couldn't talk himself into, and thankfully now it didn't appear like he'd have to.

"The D'finn nest, huh? Sounds marvelous, I'd love to offer my attendance," he said, adjusting one of the feathers upon his spaulder. "Pit the circumstances though, I do hope those lot are in a good-"

Emlyn jumped when Roland shouted, looking around wildly and setting his gaze on Connor's knife. Even when the excitement calmed down, he kept his eyes on it for a few moments more. Ugh, ghastly thing it was; both for being a blade, and for the []iabsolutely[/i] hideous amalgamation of colors that made it up. And on top of all of that, an old leather sheath. 

The others, or at least some, seemed to be moving back inside for their drinks, though Rose looked none-too-happy about it. Odd, he thought, but then again one of her own kind had been murdered. That was a big deal to vampires, wasn't it? Or was that with the beasts? He couldn't quite recall which, but then again, he wasn't about to ask. He shoved his own thirst aside -it wasn't as if it was necessary- and decided to wait outside for them. He twirled around on a heel, facing the rest of the town, and held his post there, going back to adjusting the feather on his shoulder.