[ The air of predatory control in Armand's body language is anything but benign, lacking only a tail to twitch in anticipation, but he remains where he is, amber eyes catching the light for a moment before he glances back at Emmrich. His fingers spread across the book in his hands, almost caressing the page. ]

Yes, well. As I recall, your recent adventures have sorely tested the adaptability of the population of this house. I thought it might be prudent to return the favor.

[ He snaps the book shut -- then is abruptly on the other side of the study, a sharp breeze briefly ruffling pages and loose paper the only indicator of movement. Showing off for Emmrich; as always a victim of his species' love of melodrama. Almost idly, he picks up another book and starts to leaf through it. ]

You mentioned in your message that you believe our souls are trapped in this place. For centuries, I have believed myself to be damned, my soul destined for the deepest pits of Hell to atone for the acts committed in life. Yet you claim it has been.. waylaid here. I'd like to know more.