There is, inevitably, a moment where Ellis considers retreat. A kind of quiet, anxious dread coiled in his chest in the course of their travels from the training yard and up the stairs, and it weighs on him now as his gaze sweeps the room.

Thot's questing paws root him in the moment. He watches Richard light the lamp, leaves the door ajar behind him as he lets invitation draw him further into the room, seat him at the table.

A considering look towards the bottle of wine, but even having shifted Thot back into the crook of an elbow doesn't see his free hand reaching for it. It stays instead on Thot's sleek belly as his gaze turns to Richard, eyebrows raising.