While Gregor didn't interrupt her, he was glad she fell silent upon exiting the dungeon and beholding the Cathedral's private gardens. The inquisitor was already growing weary of her fanaticism. The way she talked about the Blue God made it seem like she'd clapped eyes on the deity herself, which made her certifiable insane. Deciding to ignore that for a moment, Gregor took a deep breath, enjoying the various smells that drifted on the cool breeze -- roses, apples, freshly cut grass. It was heaven compared to the stuffy air of the catacombs. This brief moment of peace was interrupted by the cowled monk's frustrating smile, reminding Gregor of his sour mood. He ground his teeth and tipped his hat in a mock greeting before grabbing Loka by the arm. "Come on, let's go," he muttered, and only then noticed the look of horror on her face. 

"Ah, yes," he said in a low tone, smiling wryly, "most people only see the pleasant, polished exterior of the Imperial church. You started at the rotten core. I know, it makes me sick too. Best not to dwell on it." Gregor moved them out of earshot of the monk and the other apple-pickers, walking towards a wrought-iron gate set into the stone walls that surrounded the garden, and continued: "If it's any consolation, I'm an apostate. You will not have to endure the presence of these snakes much while in my company." He stopped at the gate for a moment and looked Loka up and down in a disapproving, appraising way. "This won't do," he mumbled and gestured at her torn robe and unwashed, bare feet. "I've rented a room at a nearby establishment. You can wash yourself there while I get you some proper apparel. Something practical would be best, I think. Could always tell people you're my apprentice." Gregor didn't wait for an answer and stepped out into the busy street, beckoning Loka to follow him. 

He kept a close eye on her while they walked through the streets of Maldoror. All sorts of people moved past them, including nobles, city guards, sprinting urchins, street vendors peddling their wares, laborers and craftsmen. They were flanked by tall buildings of excellent architectural make, though some were falling into disrepair. Depictions of the Imperial gods were everywhere, carved into the stone walls as bas-relief sculptures. Maldoror was the seat of Montgarde's government, of course, but also the heart of the state religion. 

The establishment where Gregor had rented a room was called [i]Double Tree[/i], with a relatively modest exterior. Inside, rich, silken upholstery, oiled wood and paintings depicting peaceful woodland scenes dominated. Gregor ushered Loka into his room, number 5, eager not to be seen with her in her current state for too long, and had a tub of hot water brought. He stepped out of the room and locked the door behind him, the tumblers sliding into position with a smooth [i]click.[/i] "I will be back within the hour," Gregor said tersely. "Don't take too long." 

---

Gregor returned fort-five minutes later with three boxes containing clothes from a local tailor. All expenses would be covered by the inquisition, of course. He knocked on the door, opened it wide enough to slide the boxes into the room and closed it again. "Come out when you're dressed," he said through the door, and waited, hands clasped behind his back, foot tapping the carpeted floor impatiently.