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It seemed he had said just enough for now, excellent.

Semyon's mouth could not move much further up than it already had, and so he settled for nodding along with Sethan's words, maintaining rapt attention. That is, he [i]did[/i] until Atticus spoke up once more, the reaction to his words causing enough chaos to unfortunately cut his current conversation off for the time being. To assist Atticus in helping Reginald Hoyle -one of the company founders- or to help Victoria Tamarind in resurrecting someone dear to her? The Wight weighed the options in his head as discourse and argument swirled before him, and his lips fell once more to a dour frown.

Atticus had the mind of a leader, but he played cruel games at times.

Master Hoyle was one of Semyon's top employers, he might as well be jointly holding the title of Tsar with Master Bain. Any help he requested should be met with a chorus of volunteers, with no mission of greater importance than what he himself had asked for. As a member of the company, Semyon should go with Atticus. As one who bore a soldier's mind, Semyon was all-but [i]required[/i] to go with Atticus.

But Master Hoyle wasn't here right now, distraught and furious, grasping at the last fraying threads of hope that had suddenly been tossed his way.

Miss Tamarind, however, was.

Semyon was quiet, offering a deep bow to the now-mirthful Sethan before striding silently across the grassy hilltop where they all stood. He wove around the others, careful not to interrupt their conversations of arguments, as a trickle of water might avoid the bumps and outcrops of a slope. He took his time, and eventually stood near the Werewolf who was present, bag still hanging from his shoulder, eyes moving to Atticus first, before falling back on the one he chose to help.

"I have never been to Alexandria." The words echoed quietly, simply. "I hope the library is as great as people say."