[Javert had supposed Hannibal Lecter came from extraordinary wealth, but to know that his birthright property was an entire castle extends significantly beyond what he imagined. He stands in the presence of near-royalty. Humbling, indeed! Ought he bow? He lowers his head instead and tucks the invitation into an inner coat pocket with a soft hiss through his teeth. Just beneath his shirtsleeves, Lecter might glimpse the novel outline of a chain and heavy leaden key dangling directly over his heart.

The topic-switch to one of the peskier god-creatures of Ryslig is a welcome break from his inward self-deprecation. He nods along with the description of Mana, a wince in his eye.]

Mademoiselle Mana. Of course, [he huffs. His lower lip bulges in a bulldoggish pout.] Check the property from bottom to top for hidden snares, if you haven't already done so. I'll inspect it with you. Mana is untoward in fulfilling her end of the bargain. There is always a hitch hidden about.

[Much to his chagrin and irritation, both of his deals with Mana ended with a surprise, no matter how carefully he worded his request. Javert buttons the breast of his coat back to the top, canting his head in abstracted thought.]

Does Monsieur Daniel often make himself scarce?