Drusus lingered there on the threshold, his gaze flitting from her, to the idol, and then to the proferred drink. His thin smile lingered just the same as she spoke, as she told him of lands he'd only known by hearsay and by old, yellowed texts. The vast deserts of the south and their enigmatic inhabitants and their even more enigmatic customs were not a topic he, or really any outsider, was typically well informed about. He had an inkling of what the name Skeitha represented though, the dangerous domains of that unassuming little coal-black idol. Not until now did he recognize the little, quiet goddess. And, while he did not fear the goddess herself he did recognize what she represented.

He stepped inside with a dipping of his head, a nod of acknowledgment of her words, and brought the door closed behind himself. He crossed the room more quietly than he had approached - and entered - with each step being weighed carefully. He looked preoccupied as he moved, his gaze making unspoken considerations clear, making it very apparent that his guard was not down. There was an intensity that suggested he was not at ease, but it wasn't fear.

He reached up and slid his hood from his head, letting it fall back and collapse inwards on itself against his neck as she struck up the conversation again, and as she said the words that did away with any pretensions of being cunning or maintaining an alias. She knew where he came from! The shadow of a grimace danced across his features, but he remained composed. In fact, his smile widened some, it grew knowing, as if they were sharing a joke.

[color=olivedrab]"The old ones are the ones you need to be careful of, though if you know of us, then I expect you know that as well,"[/color] he murmured, indicating with an extended hand that she pour him out a cup.

He reached across and took up the cup, and he brought it to his lips and sipped a small measure, more as a courtesy than an actual want. He swallowed down the sour red drink without much ceremony. Maybe a little bit of Florine wine snobbery had rubbed off on him, or maybe he just didn't care one way or the other. Regardless, to have been served here? It was no luxury, he knew, he wouldn't be expected to treat it like one.

[color=olivedrab]"You didn't wake me. I haven't slept,"[/color] he answered, with a dismissive wave of his free hand. His grin twitched at the thought of the exchange he'd heard down the hall. [color=olivedrab]"They didn't help, those two, I agree. I suppose I'm busy fretting over things,"[/color] he paused and gestured to Skeitha, [color=olivedrab]"And I suppose you two also were."[/color]

He drank again, and he brought his shoulders up in a small, also dismissive shrug. [color=olivedrab]"I am called Drusus. It is my name as an Erudite."[/color] He scoffed and set aside his cup, back on the table, and he folded his sleeve-draped arms across his chest. [color=olivedrab]"My benefactor Baronessa di Feinna sent me north. She and my order, that is. But if you're asking about my intentions? Well, I think I'm here for the same reason as everyone else. The plague. The hysteria it brought on can't be escaped back home. Though, this hardly seems like the ideal bunch to handle a disease, don't you think?"[/color]