[Suzerain of Sheol]

Tsaerri blinks.

"What is even happening today?" she mutters. "You just invited me to your room to get drunk with you and I'm not even going to threaten to murder you."

She pushes off of her barstool and warily follows him up to the second floor. Trailing him inside, she marches over to the window to look down into the street for anything suspicious.

The scene below looks terrifyingly normal.

"You can save your wine," she tells him, still scanning the dozen-or-so bodies she can see from her vantage. "I need to stay focused."

The thought intrudes upon her of what a strange situation this is. How many times has she found herself in a room like this -- granted usually with men less respectable than Syrgei, imbecile that he is -- only to coldly inform them that their life was about to end? She can't actually think of an occasion when it was something pleasant, instead. Not that this is pleasant, either.

Grabbing the chair nearest the window, Tsae spins it around and perches herself backwards on it, resting her arms and chin on the spine. She remains quiet, thinking, and waiting for her host to say something useful.