Adrianne would watch the scene of Zhevon and the nobleman with a shed of bemusement, before returning to her usual stoic facial expression as she finished the last remnants of her espresso. 

"Are you sure you do not want anyone to,-" Adrianne was about to ask when Zhevon turned to walk out of the Cafe, but the inquisitor had already left before she could finish her question. 

If this reckless attitude had been the norm with the inquisitor, Adrianne would be surprised at how the man could have stayed alive for as long as he had. It would not surprise her if they came to the gallery, only to find their venerable inquisitor abducted and kidnapped by a creepy cult of artists following the twisted tenets of the prince of pleasure. 

Rolling her eyes, she would place her now empty cup back onto the table before gazing out across the table at the others.

"The Inquisitor's message was clear enough." She would comment, tilting her head ever so slightly.
"Who here will come with me then? I know a shortcut to the main floor."