Pot and Kettle

In the end, all Sebastian could do was sigh. On most fronts, really. Despite knowing better than trying to reason with a drunk woman, here he'd been. Though it didn't mean he'd back down on the possession front. I'm told it doesn't have to be a removal. I admit I lack knowledge of the finer points, but our researchers say there might be ways of suppressing the presence to... he trailed off, searching for the right words. A dull roar? He added after a moment, shrugging slightly. She'd need to talk to one of the researching mages herself to fully understand it.

You don't deserve to be haunted like that, he added. Why were both the Hawkes such martyrs? Infuriating at the best of times.

After a moment, though, he nodded along. Perhaps once you've settled in, you can join me for my next meeting. She'd probably scoff at the notion. Just demand to be pointed in the direction she needed to go cause chaos. But it wouldn't hurt to offer, no?

Sebastian watched her with amusement as she took the room in. He caught himself before offering she stay indefinitely. Not particularly keen to admit how much he'd missed her... and a few of the others, naturally. Or was it merely the nostalgia of a simpler time?

A laugh escaped as Aoife replied to his barb. Some things? he asked, amused more than curious. He paused, hesitated really, then pushed the door closed behind himself. You win, Aoife. I'll take one drink and maybe you can tell me why you're really here now. The Antivans weren't a recent problem, after all. And now, at the very least, he could guarantee there'd be no curious eyes or ears on what she had to say.