[h3]Zerul City, the Drunken Dove[/h3]
A keen observer might have taken note of the fact that the blue-haired deo'iel started holding her breath tensely when Ixion mentioned the Blue Tool by name, and her masked sister likewise seemed to first frown when it was relayed that the Blue Tool was impaled upon one of 'his' weapons, and then seemed to petrify entirely when she mentioned 'him' - obviously the Fixer - attacking them.
None of the other things they had discussed mattered at that point, and the two demonspawn synchronously turned their heads to look at each other, burning intensity in both sets of mirror-like eyes.
As though the two had shared a swift telepathic conversation with one another they turned to face Ixion again, once more synchronously, and stared at first him, then the other two, with wide eyes. It would be hard for anyone to read the masked sister's expression from just the eyes, but a sniffer might pick up on the thrill and eagerness she was feeling; the blue-haired one was easy enough to read, though: her expression was one of fear and awe.
"Maybe we should speak more in private?" the blue-haired one suggested, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. She then lowered her voice to a whisper, barely loud enough for Ixion to hear. "But really, don't talk about the Fixer, especially when other people can hear it."
"People who do tend not to live very long," the other deo'iel pointed out, her voice also lowered, albeit not as much. "There's a reason nearly nobody's ever heard of him; people who do have a tendency of dying soon after."
"We have a room," the first sister told them, "if the three of you would like to join us."