He made to leave his cabin before snapping his fingers in recollection. He stepped back, slipped out his old shield, and slung it over his shoulder in its cover. As he did so he paused, thinking, looking over at his desk. His journal was now thoroughly well-hidden, such that no one who boarded the ship while Silvertalon was on his lonesome here would find it, of that he was confident. His money…. well that was just bad form if it got stolen, and Handy would certainly make sure he got every single damn penny back with fair recompense for trouble caused.