Nyaira turned toward Illyad long enough to give him an exaggerated pout, her shoulders moving with the expression. “Aww. Well,” she picked up her Southern drawl once more, her face scrunching up as she continued, “then you wouldn’t mind me seeing the rest of your [i]lovely[/i] home, then, would you?” She leaned her weight back on one foot, her brows raising in a mix of amusement and suspicion at their display of composure. If the compass said the girl was here, then she trusted it told the truth.
	She turned back toward the hall. “After all,” she moved a hand to her side in emphasis as she stepped forward down the hallway, her eyes scanning the couple doors ahead of her, but ears listening for any sound of movement from the two men, “it isn’t every day I get to see the infamous Illyad’s abode, now, is it?”