Emrys chuckled at her assessment. No, certainly no monk. "Not religious enough for it," he responded with a good-natured grin. "Though some of them do make very good drinks." There were whole monasteries dedicated to producing beer or wine or spirits, which was a bit of a strange mix. Emrys supposed if he was living in seclusion and had nothing else to do with his time, though, he would be good at whatever was left to him too. What would be the point of being a monk if they didn't even have any quality product to show for their efforts at the end of the day?

"Anyway. Another time, Miss Scrimgeour," he said by way of farewell. "I hope you find your glove."

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