"Calm down, it was just a bucket and an old shirt." Few are the people he'll make an attempt to look presentable for so he can even get his fingers all the way through his hair today for the first time in about three months, give or take. Dislodged a few fingerbones, can't even say they all came from the clean-up work at the Gallows either, he's not entirely sure what he was doing or up to in the past. Wouldn't want to go leaving those in the parlour when she's got enough under her house as is. Maybe in the walls. It's Kirkwall, likely that she already knows about the sort of history of building work that goes on everywhere in the city.

At least there's an easier address for Aura to write to now since everything is probably going to come care of Yngvi to send off; Asher dies and Yngvi realises how big it all is, how colossal and overwhelming the face of people who would care if he disappeared similarly for good happens to be.

"'m expecting an egg? Better not be a goose, them things have teeth." Better not be expecting period or he will summon the Boneflayers and Emeric won't need to lift a finger: if something untoward has happened and it's name is Thranduil without Thranduil saying a token word to Yngvi as is only right, Kirkwall won't be thirsty long. "Shit, your grandfather was meant to pay me for a job y'know, but swimming in work, drowning, as it so happens. Gonna get lost in this house without a thorough inspection. Has Har-- has Mr. Growing-into-his-Paws got his own room too?"

You heard nothing. You heard everything.