They talk and converse with more literacy in the arcane than Kit could ever hope (or desire) to achieve himself. He busies himself by crouching next to the broken crockery to poke at it with a small blade often worn at his hip. Nothing especially unusual about it that he can tell--

--that's when he hears it, so faint at first that he's sure he must be imagining it, hearing as bad as his:

...my clothes are all in pawn,
go down you blood red roses, go down...

He rises up from his crouch and fixes the doorway leading into the rest of the house with an intense, scrutinizing stare. "Either of you hear that?"