[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220412/0eb207390f4e0e6834fc87bf2ad93afa.png[/img][/center][hr] Ceolfric was used to a number of different reactions whenever he burst into a building unannounced - brave fools rushing him with the nearest sharp object, wide-eyed glances from those frozen in fear, dagger-like glares from the resident 'tough customers', the shrill whining of some idiotic farmwife who thinks, for some reason, that the best way to keep her head attached to her shoulders is to stand [i]between[/i] the interloping marauders and her valuables - but a monotone greeting from a stately elf as he threw open the doors to the Bounty House was definitely new to him. Nor did the gentleman's bored confidence come from a place of power; he looked barely a match for the pianist, let alone whatever stronger entity was residing further within. It was so utterly unexpected that the bandit found himself baffled into silence. He'd expected to demand answers from a wary secretary, not... be offered paperwork. Though he supposed an office that trafficked in mercenaries would be used to such antics; the Bounty House couldn't be all snooty knights-errant and glory-seeking noblemen. Besides, it wouldn't do to make a scene quite yet - the House had an undeniable air of danger beneath the veneer of civility. The pianist was likely placed strategically to eliminate any incoming threats, with Jenson being a simple red herring to give intruders false confidence. The arcane symbolism etched into the floor by the stairs was either a summoning circle for a being so integral to the inhabitants that it was made a permanent facet of the architecture, or the locus of some kind of large-scale protective magic, neither of which boded well for anyone that caused trouble. And that was to say nothing of the entities further within - his mystery demon had split into thirds upon closer inspection, and Ceolfric wasn't sure if that was preferable or worse. He looked dumbly toward Aleka and acquiesced, approaching the desk. Impatient as he was, he had still come to play at the politics of the civilized world, not play witchhunter to every ominous building in the woods; answers could wait. [color=AA4A44]"Erm. Yes. I'm Ceolfric."[/color] He wasn't sure if tacking a colorful list of monikers to his name would make him a more appealing hire or just land him in the local jail, so he omitted such titles as 'Bandit Prince of Dranir', 'Favored of Umbraxakar', 'Kin to Demons', [i]et cetera[/i]. His gaze turned to the hefty tome Aleka had produced with a confused furrow in his brow and wary curiosity in his eyes. Exactly how much of that was he expected to fill? Maybe he should've let the siblings go first and follow their lead. [color=AA4A44]"What information exactly do you need?"[/color] [hr]