He didn't even try to hide his eyeroll. "Are you always so bossy with the victims of magical explosions whose houses you visit?" he asked, stepping aside to allow her to pass. Instead of walking in front of her this time he walked by her side, his gaze flickering between the different console tables they passed every now and then. There was always something on display, usually some family artefact that was protected glass, preventing any visitors from touching. There were also other things, though—smaller portraits of him as a child, a wedding photo of his mother and father, a long tapestry detailing the family tree hanging above one console instead of sitting atop it. They were little bits of his life that he doubted she would pay much attention to, and yet the idea of her doing just that sparked a panic in his chest.

"You're free to check through the doors if you'd like. Most are empty guest bedrooms and sitting rooms in this wing," he offered, continuing to walk. He knew she'd likely say no, although there was always the chance she'd want to. He still wasn't sure what she was looking for, but he wouldn't mind wandering the house in familiar patterns until she was satisfied.

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