[ at the permission, he steps forward properly into the little shop, wandering toward some of the displays, brushing ink-stained fingers over them. he glances back toward her, then, frowning-- indeed, nearly scowling. ]

Certainly not. I only answer to one man, and he's-- [ he falters, something wounded passing over his features before being shuttered away. ] He's centuries dead, I suppose. [ everyone he'd known is dead, but gods, arthur. every time he thinks about him being gone from the world, he wants to scream and never stop screaming.

he takes a breath, steadying himself. ] I gave out my name, though, not.. knowing that it's well-known. [ he rubs the back of his hand tiredly over his eyes. ] .. And it is very well-known, it seems.