Liz turned to follow Thortan inside, her gaze quickly settling on the scenery. She studied the interior of the mansion just as she had the woman outside, taking in every detail...memorizing every exit, and every hiding spot. It was the involuntary process her mind launched into anytime she entered a new structure. Her own mind was not far from Thortan's, though neither of the two realized that of course. Memories of her own were flickering through her mind. The first time she had met with the Queen it was when tensions had initially risen. 

It was worth noting, in Liz's own mind, that the tensions were not without merit. Whatever she had advertised it was obvious the Queen had no intention of giving the humans any real power in her envisioned empire, and it was only a matter of time before they would figure that out. Liz had seen it quickly, and she had offered her opinion without hesitation. When the Queen had laid out her vision for Liz she could not help but be impressed. It was something she could support, and so here she was.

Those early days had been full of thrills. Constant work had been rolling in for the assassin, and she had barely a moment to spare for the sake of sleep. It was ideal, for someone like her. The waiting had her restless, irritable, and anxious. She wanted to see things moving, to watch that progress the way it should. The more reclusive Kingdoms, Liz felt, were to blame. Even her own people. To name support without providing men...it seemed pointless. Had the numbers come together properly, they would have at least matched the humans more evenly, if not managed to outnumber them outright.

A hiss escaped from her nostrils as she let her mind work through the train of thought, and by the time she found herself settling at the table she was cutting that thought process off. It wasn't much use at the present moment. Even within a mansion, even with her history working as what the elves deemed a 'royal assassin', she was far from polite. Her cloak had most certainly not been removed, nor had her weapons. Her constant attire gave off the appearance of being ceaselessly ready for a fight, and yet here there should be none. The leathers, at least, were well worn in and there was none of that irritating creaking and groaning one often heard from newer leathers. She attempted to get comfortable, waiting for the food they had been promised.