To overlook Iskandar would be akin to failing to notice a mountain suddenly strolling up to you and reclaiming your bolt. Corvo has never quite felt so dwarfed by a man before, and it takes a moment to adjust, silently taking back his bolt and, after checking to make sure it wasn't blunted, filing it away. He coughs, a little, at the mention of being a talented assassin--it's not the first time people have spoken about the profession so bluntly here, and he has to restrain the reflex to assure his visitor that he would never stoop to such a thing.

"Thank you," Is what he says instead. "I hope that enough training will pull me out of simply possessing the makings of one." That's a little joke, right there. He nods at the question, glancing at his hand, now bearing the anchor shard, as well as the mark of the Outsider. "Yes. It's all...very surprising, is it not? I don't think I could imagine this, not ever."