Horacio no longer had the glazy eyes he had whilst in his meeting with Lisbeth, but he nevertheless looked gaunt and weary for the meeting with the ambassador. He didn't bother to speak much, but he did raise an eyebrow in question when the man stated they must come unarmed and unarmoured. It seemed in the interest of diplomacy Victorine conceded to the request, much to Horacio's surprise. If he were her, he'd tell the ambassador to stick it where the sun doesn't shine. His eyebrow rose even higher when the ambassador described in detail what attire he expected to be worn. 

[hr]

In acknowledgement of the formality of the occasion, Horacio trimmed an errant hair here or there, but ultimately the man was unchanged. After all, the he had more important concerns. He made sure that he brought his Rosarius and power-maul ensemble, those two always went together and he could always make an analogy to a Royal Scepter if it was questioned... an extraordinarily large one of course, to assert dominance of the Priest. But there was more to consider. The Sisters seemed to accept relinquishing their firearms, but he damn well wasn't going to do so. He put on a particularly thick, ceremonial set of robes with lots of frocking and the lot. He always forgot the right amount of starch-simulants to have used upon it, and thus it felt like he was wearing cardboard covered in sandpaper. Still, it was a necessary sacrifice. Off of his shotgun he used his power-maul to smash off most of the stock and barrel, before using a mono-knife in his grooming kit to carefully take off the rest so he wouldn't have sharp jagged metal prodding him for the time they spent on Cekrov. It was put on safety with a full load of shells, several more loads worth hid about his person. But that wasn't all he had to bring. 

The Confessor looked to his bolt-pistol, and gave a weary sigh. He hid a few clips amongst various recesses amongst his robes, but he very much wanted to also keep one ready in it for the potential situation he had to quickly draw it. Considering where he was going to hide it, this would cause far more discomfort than his atrociously starched robes. 

Finally donning his large hat that now housed several combat knives and units of ammunition, he was ready. Looking at his face in the mirror he still looked like shit, but having purpose took his mind off of the recent events rotting his mind. 

[hr]

He was the third to come - doing his best to seem like he was walking normally - waddling awkwardly due to all the things he had hidden about him. The Sisters might question his movements knowing his usual gait, but he hoped they wouldn't voice their thoughts lest the ambassador and others realize that something might be fishy - it would best be that he simply thought years ministering to spire nobility or praying down on his knees made him such. 

As he neared the present duo he couldn't help but grin, giving a giggle-snort any wild hog would be proud of. Trying to choke down his chuckle but failing while he shook his head, he gave them a greeting. "Hullo Sisters, looking forward to the descent?"