"You really need to get more creative with your threats. Or at least threaten something you'll actually enact. Threaten to make a mess of my hair, perhaps."

"... Do you actually want my company, or? Because if you do I can -"

"I was being excessively sardonic about pointing out that you don't need to ask us permission to go anywhere. And I'd much rather prefer you be free to go wherever you like."

"That's not actually an answer."

Sigh. "No. I'm all right. I was planning to wander the city, anyway."

"Okay. Have fun."

"'I'm going to look around, too, I think. I want to know at least a bit about the city I woke up in before we go flying off to find Laisanni.'"

"You have fun too, but please don't completely neglect to sleep. Again."

"'Yes, Ranelin,'" says Kastimund, in a voice reminiscent of a teenager speaking to one's mother.

"Okay. Good. Then - good night."

"Good night," echoes Kastimund, waving and floating off.

Saerith stays to make sure Ranelin is properly tucked into a makeshift bed in Riale's room, but departs soon enough after seeing her settled.

A while later:

"Stop looking at me like that," sighs Kastimund. "I don't do this every night."

"Yes, well, maybe one day the chain'll break from the strain, and I'll be free to float wherever I like."

"It's not particularly torturous, actually. Annoying, I'll grant you, but torturous is a bit extreme."

"Well you're entirely free to return to a more comfortable distance from the book if you'd rather."

"Why? You know I don't care. I can't care. You don't need to play martyr. There's nothing for you to self sacrifice for."