It's been a while since they got to see anyone new. Well, a while to grubs. A little over a month, Ghost estimates, since Ze'mer had convinced her beloved Mantis Ambassador to visit. The little moths had flocked behind her until Hazewing distracted them a few times.

Grubs need enrichment. This walk is enrichment, and new people are enrichment, as well as something they like. Quirrel is reasonable on all counts.

Ghost gives a noncommittal hand-wave to both questions. He needn't worry...and they're focusing more on their surroundings as much as they are teasing.

They stride behind stalls and into a narrow opening between buildings as though they belong. Which they do, technically. Few would try to bar them from anywhere; there's an unfortunate habit of denizens to look away from those above. As evidenced by the den of torture the Soul Sanctum turned out to be.

Perhaps they're being uncharitable. They're a Knight, trusted for deed as well as word; tearing the Sanctum apart and rescuing the few left is something they take pride in.

They lightly shake their head in the shadows and fold onto a convenient stoop. Undignified for even a noble, they give it no notice as their wings drop away.

Seven little faces draw back on Ghost's lap and fix stares on Quirrel's face.