Where Solomon grew sharp, and lost the calm demeanour he'd been keeping a strenuous hold on until now, Paddy did the exact opposite. Not that he'd been sharp before, but he grew calmer still, as if Solomon was taking from him any chance of raising his voice right back.

For a while, all Paddy did was watch him. Without judgment, without intent, without much of anything. He met Solomon's sightless eyes, his accusing eyes, without blinking or looking away.

Paddy knew that Solomon could see souls, but if you'd asked him right then what the ex-Necromancer might be seeing, he wouldn't have any idea. There was sympathy, well-worn sympathy with everything Solomon had been through and how much he still had to deal with before he'd come out the other side. Pain Paddy would never be able to imagine, ongoing shock, deep confusion and fear. But it wasn't just sympathy; there was a measure of practically everything else, as well. Including, minute though it was, a flash of annoyance.

"I don't expect anything." Paddy's voice, when he eventually spoke, was every bit as gentle as it was before. "I barely knew Necromancers existed until last week. Anything I might have expected, you're already doing. As you said, giving them a place to go. Protection." Abruptly, Paddy stood up. "Would you like some tea? Something to drink?"