Through all of this, and for a few seconds after it, Kostos is silent. It isn’t—not after the very first moment, at least—a stunned silence, not slack-jawed or uncomprehending. His jaw is set, and he shifts attention from speaker to speaker with plenty of comprehension, looking more annoyed than bewildered. He is able to accept the fact that his brother is here very quickly, and equally able to accept the witty commentary as deserved.

But keeping up and being able to form words are two very different things, especially for him.

There are more ants on his hand. He can feel them, but he doesn’t look down.

“We’re not—“ here to ruin anything, but perhaps they are; Inquisition, but obviously they are. He shuts his mouth, then tries again after a pause. “This is my brother,” he says, to Beleth and Kit, though he’s still watching his twin. “Nikos. Who I expected to be staying out of trouble.”

Beyond them all, the wagon and its accompanying human and elves keep advancing on the villa, though not in any apparent hurry.