"That is the question," Yorolaie mused, gently watching the mantle as the wasps and beetle settled and stilled. Crom himself seemed much smaller without the garb, his skin now exposed to the rooms dark and tepid air. Yorolaie hoped he would not be cold, nor feel vulnerable. He assured himself there was no need to be concerned. Crom had removed the mantle by choice. He knew what he was doing and could handle any problem that may arise.

As Rodin reappeared with their drinks, and hopefully change from that platinum piece Crom had so nonchalantly set down, Yorolaie engaged eye contact with him again, hoping that they might question him a little more.