"Hrm."

[i]Assassin/Idiot/Chariot/Power Sweeper--[/i]

"I require your name, if you please. My notes are becoming cluttered."

[i]indicated yet more new information.
Mildly contradictory, unclear the degree to which she is herself involved in deception versus merely being deceived.
Newest testimony alleges Sister Tammithyn possessed preexisting knowledge about my investigation, its likelihood of turning toward her, as well as misinformation regarding my intentions.
Mentioning again for posterity, I possess no prior knowledge of this woman.
Accusation stands thusly: that I (subject Eclair Espoir) am dangerously in love with her (subject Sister Tammithyn Murr) to the point where I will threaten her connections and livelihood if I am spurned.
Firm conclusion cannot be reached without an interview with this new subject.
[u]HOWEVER![/u]
Circumstances suggest a single obvious responsible actor.
Communication with the Manor can no longer be assumed to be safe.[/i]

"I fail to understand how more Paladins would make her safer, if she is not safe from me already. But I appreciate your sense of deductive reasoning nevertheless; most people I cross weapons with tend to cling to the possibility their loss was a fluke. Your commitment to duty has defeated that delusion already. I commend you. Truly."

Pause, blow ink dry. Leave notebook open. Seek eye contact, hold. Five, four, three, two, one. Blink. Tilt neck forty-five degrees, rotate ear forward. Observe patterns of breathing, consider availability of information. 

Next question, ple--

Her tablet pings. Eclair is lost in reading the missive, vulnerable for the moment in the soft wonder of receiving direct communications from one of the Dreamers. Colors smearing, the impossibility of getting them out again. Indeed, indeed, indeed, that [i]is[/i] the conundrum in the moment. The idea keeps clinging to her. The threat of a theory that attracts facts, when she needs it to go the other way.

The name, pressed into her fingers even through her gauntlet in the form of paint. Who could know enough to namedrop her and even follow the thread of her musings several steps in advance? Timtam. Only Timtam. She mustn't think it. But now that she has, it fills her entire mind. Her target knows. Already the chase is not secret. Lady Evening, that means...

The warning that had sent her hear to start with. Frustratingly impossible as it was to read, it was left specifically for Eclair's eyes. Hers alone? That was the question that needed answering. 

"...What is your evidence that there are only two possible liars?" she asks, dreamily, "Certainly I could be spinning an ever more elaborate tapestry of lies, and certainly the good Sister could likewise have set a trap, little though you respect her potential as a combat threat. But what do you know about the person who told her about me~?"

There is a trap here, more than likely. But Eclair cannot feel its jaws closing just yet. The path unfolding under her feet leads only in one direction.