With Lady Sylvia manuevered out the door, and it locked behind her, Alyssana allowed herself to indulge in a moment of relief. She'd never liked the woman, and was glad to have her gone. But only a moment before she turned her attention to Walter, trying his best to speak over the uncomfortably mushy expounding of Finnegan. If she didn't know about the perfume she might have wondered what had gotten into him, for while he was a flirt this was far beyond his usual affectionate banter. As things stood, the more he said, the harder it was for Alys -- both the needle-sharp twinge of guilt and simple embarrassment on his behalf. "If Finnegan knows the most, then I suppose we'll have to wait until he's feeling more like himself," she declared, speaking over Finny with the ease of a teacher who'd faced her share of intractable students. "No, there's no need to knock him out, Walter. ...Let me try to speak with him." And so Alyssana settled herself again in the chair across from Finnegan. "What do I need to understand, Finnegan?" she asked, tone gentler, more patient. She'd already braced herself for the awkwardness of his answer, but if hearing him out would allow them to move forward with other matters, she felt obligated to endure it.