[h2][center]Gillian[/center][/h2]

“It's not so much the skirt as whats inside.” Gillian teases back, electing to ignore the sword comment. The only retort he could think of was to clearify he used a spear, and somehow he doubted that would turn out in his favor. He stayed quiet as the captain gave the elder Sunfield her orders, atleast for the day. Part of him was hoping she'd dismiss the girl, but that was probably hoping agianst hope. 

“Well,...” he says, stretching slightly as he digs into a pocket. “I'll let you get to your work. Doubt you'd need or want me hovering around you whilst you engage in your maidly duties. That said, do hope you consider joining our order. Can always use a woman of your diverse talents...” He pulls out a small brass key, gently tossing it to Nero. He continues, tone only slightly teasing, “My room numbers on the side. Come by after you've finished up with your jobs. We do still need to finish our...earlier discussion.”

He nods to the captain before walking off back towards the stairs, catching a glimpse of the Delacroix woman and her large furry companion (and behind her, her smaller less furry one). The wolf seemed to be in a foul mood, sensing some unseen threat. Gillian shrugs it off, heading back upstairs with little incident. 

His room was dimly lit, curtains pulled tightly shut, as it always was. He perfered it this way, the lights from the surrounding city and the fortress itself were intrusive to his sleep. His foot gently knocks agaisnt some unseen clutter. He sighs gently, he'd have to tidy up before Nero came by later. Not that it would be difficult, he had such a meger collection of possessions. 

He takes off his shirt, deciding to catch a few more hours of sleep. It was rare for him to have acess to a proper bed for so long, so he might as well take advantage of it. He gently flops down onto the bed, eyes about to close before he becomes aware of an unfamiliar lump. Series of lumps, actually. 

He begins to trace the lump, following a path upward. Waist....chest (a mans by the tight collection of muscles)...neck...ears. Far too pointed to be a humans, and too fluffy by far. He sits up, stradling the invasive bed mate, still holding the offending ear as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “....Ian. Why are you in my bed?” he asks, in an even tone, clearly not entirely happy about his sudden bed mate.