“Tell me what the gentry dislikes about a good pair of daggers.” Groaning slightly, Syrgei smooths his coat down, though the gesture is more to check for bruises than to tidy his appearance. “Perhaps I ought to look into this transmutation business.” He notices the blood trickling down Tsaerri's leg. “Are you okay? Can you make it out of here?” Are you going to shove a gun into my face for asking? Whatever her response, there is another loud crash downstairs by the entrance to the garden. “You've discovered my plot? It doesn't matter, you can't stop me or my golem!! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Grenth, you are testing me today. So does this count as being in the right place at the right time?