“You sure Kagami should do it? You two are the [i]talent[/i], you know?” Gilvan spoke in a hushed whisper despite the bedlam igniting all around him, “Just leave it to me or something. You two could be the helms-.”

He found his own voice overwhelmed by the bombastic staccato of the Erune lady. Or, woman, perhaps. ‘Lady’ seemed a smidge too proper-sounding a moniker for the organizer of a riot and prison break. Lady or not, she had a particular talent, and Gilvan [i]did[/i] have an eye for talent. Regardless of whether her mercantile abilities proved up-to-snuff or otherwise, she seemed to have a preternatural capacity for organized chaos, of layering disarray and pandemonium. Disorder was a powerful tool - someone who could channel it in even a semi-orderly fashion was a force to be reckoned with. 

With newly freed prisoners set to task, Gilvan took into the Prisoner Properties room, to reclaim that which had been taken. Which, in the end, was little more than a hard, leathery-ball, an oaken rod that he had grown fond of using as a walking stick during his injuries, and the black drapings of his garments. Ultimately all things he could spare, sentimental value being, strictly speaking, not a foundationally crucial currency. The singular beating heart, however…

That seemed crucial to someone. 

“Right. Let’s [i]not touch that[/i],” The Headhunter turned to Arno and Kagami, perhaps inordinately compassionate towards the talent, “Are you two quite alrigh-?”

The momentary concern gave birth to even more worry, and a sad, idle thought, vocalized as he turned back to the Erune, “Hey… you don’t really think you’re going to manage getting [i]all of us[/i] out, do you?”