( from just behind the sofa she's been sitting on there's a sound of movement; hardie, near enough to full grown now, trots out from his sleeping position to investigate romain. gwenaëlle's hand on his back keeps him from doing so too vigorously. )

There isn't much to be requested. My lord sent for me much of what I have, and I donated a good deal of it for the lack of anywhere to keep it, otherwise. Space is in remarkably short supply for how short-handed it feels the Inquisition is.