[Of all the locks he's picked, or been in the company of the picker, Scipio has only seen a handful of fireball traps. And he would say this, but Kaisa moves on--and on, and on, over the topic of snow and sledding and down along the stairs, to kick aside a corpse. Verbosity and wit are two traits Scipio can deeply appreciate. He fights down his scarves and layers with his chin, already grinning.

Which, perhaps he shouldn't be. The inside of the tower is a haunt and a ruin, with the corpse to prove it. The chinks in the stone let in a little bit of the wind, but only a little, nothing compared to the teeth of it when they were heading up to the window. The thaw will free Scipio's tongue and his wits in moments, enough to add pleasant conversation to this little jaunt of theirs, steep and deadly stairs or no.]

Ah.

[--Or, it would be pleasant, if not for the darkspawn. Which he does sense, actually, a gritty feeling at the back of the mind. Scipio looks back up the stairs, back the way that they've come, and thinks very seriously of climbing back out the window. It's cold, but it's not darkspawn.]

Well, when you say 'fight'-- [No, wait. He clears his throat, briskly, and draws his daggers.] Yes, yes. Of course. Though, usually with more stealth and secret, yes? Do you suppose that they have sensed us too?