Archer tapped her foot, polishing off her meal rather slowly; feigning casualness, so she could better inspect the devices and items of clear, magical make. Now, she truly wanted to be gone; nerves edging on combat, the darkness creeping into her eyes and soul. Haas finished his meal swift, and she hardly at all. [color=goldenrod]"Hurry. I wish to tarry no longer,"[/color] she urges. If this was the domicile of a Magus, then she must has been one of great strength - or perhaps, considerable luck - to have survived or have never been chosen. However, perhaps she was chosen, and her Servant hung out of sight; or, worse still, she was aligned with Mandrake, and could be set against them. Rubbing her cheeks, Archer attempted to stay in control, stay in cover. [color=goldenrod]"After all, we've much to do and see, Brother,"[/color] she smiles brightly, [color=goldenrod]"and, places to be."[/color]

[color=goldenrod]"Even if this meal is rather delightful..."[/color]