"Gwenaëlle," he agrees with an open smile. There's a slight strangeness to the whole notion of speaking on a given-name basis, an oddly affecting weight that comes with it. Maturity in the eyes of his mother's friends is...not unexpected, not least because he left a boy and returned a man, but it's a sensation he's not yet used to feeling.

He'll find his footing soon, helped along by more friendly faces - and if he seems even more pleased to see Hardie, it is, hopefully, forgivable. The creature is the closest he's ever come to a pet; for all he'd petitioned Mother for a war dog to join them on their travels, he'd always been rebuffed. (In retrospect, such a thing was never going to happen, but a twelve-year-old's dreams are stubborn things.) Bending down a little, he gives Hardie an affectionate scratch behind the ears. "Hardie! What a beast you've become!"

To Gwenaëlle's office, though, and with some dignity (and perhaps he'll see what tricks Hardie still remembers later). He follows her down the stairs, finally answering the question she'd asked in the middle of everything. "I came a few days ago - overland from Nevarra. The countryside was choked with Venatori, I'm sorry to say, but I'm sure you're well aware."