Ah, Merlin’s beard. They’d nearly been clear and away, and if they weren’t now that was entirely on Tybalt. And a gross failure of his tour-guiding skills. He really hadn’t meant to lead poor Mr. Holm astray.
And the lad looked rather worried about the metaphorical wolves at the door. Tyb pressed a hand to his shoulder to reassure him - and possibly to make sure Bragi got dragged along sharpish if the game was up and they had to make a run for it down the passageway, but he wasn’t at much liberty to explain it - but then Tybalt had another idea. He was not sure it’d actually work, but it was worth a go. He thought he had just enough dramatic flair to pull it off. Maybe.
(If not, they’d have to run.)
“Patrolling, are you?” He called out, in his best imitation of a wheezing, dry voice, that he hoped would sound to the passers-by like it was coming from a portrait-next-door. “Be quieter about it then! Some of us are trying to sleep, you know.” Fingers crossed, eh.
And the lad looked rather worried about the metaphorical wolves at the door. Tyb pressed a hand to his shoulder to reassure him - and possibly to make sure Bragi got dragged along sharpish if the game was up and they had to make a run for it down the passageway, but he wasn’t at much liberty to explain it - but then Tybalt had another idea. He was not sure it’d actually work, but it was worth a go. He thought he had just enough dramatic flair to pull it off. Maybe.
(If not, they’d have to run.)
“Patrolling, are you?” He called out, in his best imitation of a wheezing, dry voice, that he hoped would sound to the passers-by like it was coming from a portrait-next-door. “Be quieter about it then! Some of us are trying to sleep, you know.” Fingers crossed, eh.
