Vivienne normally would not give such a shabby looking operation a first or a second glance. She'd have not bothered with the first glance if in her dismissing the tattered inventory there had not been books. Familiar bindings which Madame de Fer recognized in an instant having studied them at length herself.

When she approaches, it is with all congeniality, practically amiable. Anyone at all familiar with her could mark the intensity of such friendliness as dangerous. Typically such an outpouring of warmth masks a seething rage which typically results in the premature death of the offender. Her slender fingers trace the detailing of the bindings.

"Why, my dear, wherever did you find these?"

Obviously they have been stolen from the Circles and she'll turn this rabbit into a block of ice if she doesn't answer quite carefully.