Vol leaned indolently against the wall at the rear of the tent, quiet and still as he listened to the Wish Master speak. The brim of his top hat covered his hazel eyes and kept his face mostly in shadow. His thoughts, like his eyes, were hidden and guarded. Even at the uproar following Ty’s query he remained silent and still. 

He looked like a person out of time; and in many ways he was. He always had been, even before he gained his youthful immortality. He preferred slightly anachronistic garb such as tailcoats, tailored vests, and cravats. He completed the ensemble with a top hat, cane and sometimes a rather old fashioned revolver. They were all designed to ensure that one remembered him. He planned that he would never blend into a crowd but always dominate a stranger’s eye, forever being the one remembered. It was a costume, just as the sparkling body suits of the acrobats or the glittering garb of the belly dancers. The only difference was that he was almost never out of his chosen costume.

He had disdained to join the others in the seats, mostly because he had no desire to socialize with any of them at the moment. He had no friends, and only small few that he would even consider engaging in anything other than superficial conversation. At his feet his wolverines wandered about, sniffing and snuffling and grumbling in their low voices. They were the closest thing he had to a friend, and he understood them and their natures far better than he understood even himself. He mulled over Mr. Seil's words, turning them around and around in his mind. Very like the way the wolverines, frolicking at his feet, were currently turning a chicken head over and over. He was briefly concerned about where they might have picked up an unattached chicken head. He banished his worry, that concern was unimportant in the wake of the news that had just been delievered. 

He watched the other contracted, his observant eyes working to read each of his fellow workers. He ignored the comedy routine from Adracos; it was not worth his time at the moment; and instead eyed those gathered wracking his memory for anything out of the ordinary. He came up with nothing. He was not inclined to be troubled over the news of the disappearances. He was concerned he might be next naturally, but that was really all he cared about. The implications of Seil’s news, however, were very interesting. To his eye it spoke of someone or something that sought to undermine the Wish Master. Particularly since the force, whatever it was, had managed not only to take twelve of Mr. Seil’s bond workers but also souls that had been branded to him. Very nearly a direct attack on the Wish Master himself. Such a situation would be very dangerous for all involved, particularly those caught in the crossfire of what could potentially be a titanic battle. Even if the battle was a battle of subterfuge and sabotage. 

[i]I wonder if Seil happened not to notice until twelve were missing, if twelve went missing at once, or if he noticed but didn’t care to warn us until twelve were missing [/i]. His smile was slim as he mused on this topic. The answer, and the reaction it might invoke from those gathered, could reveal much. He shifted his weight and straightened up, tipping the brim of his hat up with a slim gloved finger so that he may see and be seen better. Since the gathering seemed on the verge of descending into random acts of nonsense he decied he would voice his own questions. 

“I have two further questions Sir, if you might indulge my curiosity” Vol spoke from the back, pitching his ever-charming to carry easily across all gathered. “Watch and observe we all shall, of that I have no doubt. However I am wondering…did all twelve vanish at once or one at a time, in a trickle? As to the second question…these souls you mentioned, the ones that have been misplaced, were they collected by the missing twelve or a variety of workers, perhaps even collected by those of us here assembled?”