Oh no, my friend, it was the same tune! Maybe just lowered an octave, or whatever was the metaphorical equivalent of by this point Lucarius had distinguished himself as interesting, and therefore Lex would be slightly more 'damn shame, that', if his head had been squished like a grape or something. He considered his work, which was progressing at a reasonable pace despite how people kept interrupting him in other threads (...no they didn't). "Once I'm obliged to work by torchlight, more or less."

Unexceptional brute labour wasn't going to earn him enough goodwill to make that worth it. Anyway, because how Thedosians tell him escaped management at the moment, maybe that met uhhhhhhh about two hours, yes? Sure! What an arbitrary designation.

The observation on the wall, meanwhile, was--well, deeply accurate; Lex let his eyeline follow Lucarius and chuckled, again high-pitched and a little awkward, but carrying it well. "I'm not a mason. Once all the loose stones are out I hope they take the trouble to put a team on it." Pretending, of course, that at the time of their actual handshaking the detail had been included that Lex's hands wore the kind of wear and tear ascribed typically to craftsmen, not combatants.

He tilted his head over renewed tiny hammer taps, its angle avian. "Why? If you're looking for a tour diplomatic immunity will get you much more interesting places than I can."

(Lex didn't think that was why.)