Mortha shuffled in, grateful to be out of the cold. Her translator followed at her heels, almost tripping over the pink luggage a time or two. As the ice construct followed, he began to translate for the little girls. What surprised Mortha was that he translated only one string of sentences, but she saw both girls talking in turn. And right off the bat what she was "hearing" concerned her. It seemed there was a conflict in the house, so much so that the girls readily warned any visitors of various dangers in it. Just how dangerous was this house, exactly?

Mortha blinked with a little squeak as she was nudged forward by her partner. Well, it seemed she was getting herself promoted from a coffee-fetcher to a full-blown detective and thrown into the fray to boot. Miss Grail put on her brightest smile as she crouched to be eye-level with the girls.

"Hi! I'm Mortha. What're your names?" She said, almost hesitantly. "Uh, before we hang up our coats and settle in, would you mind leading us to your father first? I don't feel comfortable settling in while he's being screamed at. Why is he in trouble, by the way?"

She said, and tried ruffling one of the girls' hair in an idle gesture. "And... Why all the warnings, girls? Is the house really that dangerous?"