"No one's close enough to hear, trust me. But this gives me a good opportunity to talk to you about… something important." Handy joined his hands and leaned against the table. Shrouded in patchwork robes, face veiled, and black horns poking from the sides of his hood, Jacques realised he looked very much like one of those crooked old mystery stallions one would hear about in creepy old traveling stories, making diabolical, supernatural deals that always backfired horribly on the foolish mortal who entered into them. He kept that to himself. No doubt Handy would be tickled pink by the idea, and Jacques did not care to put up with such a façade that he'd no doubt adopt.