Taking the traditional way down, Syrgei lands in the yard next to Tsaerri with a light ‘oof,’ and smooths his coat down. He suppresses his amusement at her pouting. She probably wouldn’t take that well. “Do this all the time, do you? Usually if I’m running around like that there’s someone I want to avoid. So,” he looks around at the site to get his bearings. “Anything I should know about these swords of yours?”