Zixx glided, more then walked down the halls in tow, hands behind his back, chest puffed out and head held high. As each one spoke, and thought, he observed. Most already knew he was reading their thoughts, though only gleening over surface ones. Until the situation warranted, he had no intentions of doing deep mental diving. Not without permission or cause, at least... But, he already knew they distrusted him, which was a perfectly reasonable assumption. Not that it made his situation any easier, mind you.<br/><br/>As the cook came through, he decided to try his luck, and, keeping the 'channel' open for all to hear, asked<i>&lt;Ah, excuse me, Master Chef, but would you by chance have some form of pepperoni or salami in stock? It's one of the few, casual, foods, which does not upset my stomach or company.&gt;</i>the thoughts delivered with a lacing of good natured friendlyness. In Zixx experience, speaking 'privately' while in a group was actually more troublesome to people then if he spoke to all at once... It emulated sound better, which made them more comfortable. If not less tense from being 'left out'. With the topic of foods set aside, he resumed reading people's thoughts, guaging their ideas and measuring concerns...<br/><br/>He could tell the 'saintly', holier then thou grugach, while she asked about life and death, had already commited herself to the latter. A pitty, no wonder the good died young, always in such a rush to end themselves... Ilvaria has some fun ideas, if by fun you mean suicidal. Was he really the only one genuinely interested in walking away from this fight alive? It was almost laughable to him! Or was it the idea of supplementing her own bag of holding plan, by offering to high five the "Lady Saint?" Surely a cross of eldritch and divine of such magnitude would have no small measure of reality shattering force...<br/><br/>None of this showed on his face or in his posture, however, as the Illithid took a seat at the table, reclining back lazily and crossing left leg over right,. Elbows on the armrests and leather wrapped, and metal tipped fingers steepled together. His lense covered gaze shifting to each person as they spoke. If he was actually looking, however, could not be told.<i> &lt;My concern, ladies and gentlemen...&gt;</i>Stoping himself a moment to looking and scan around to insure he had their attention,<i>&lt;Is a strategic one firstly, and conclussionary second. The former is this: How are we getting there, to the abyss, that is... And, will this be a covert operation,  or shall we take the bloodier road, and knock on their front door?&gt;</i>stopping to let his windchime like laugh sparkle in their minds, though it somehow felt sick, something fundamentally fowl and indeed sinister in it.<i>&lt;Secondly, once we have this relic... This, Piece of Seven Parts, surely every boogieman and beasty from the next ten dimentions in every direction will be after it... How, and please be honest, but how do you intend... To hold it, here?&gt;</i>His head canting to the side as he spread his hands wide, gesturing to the old, humble looking manor they were sitting within.<br/><br/>His point made, Zixx leaned back once more, comfortable as a bug in a rug, fingers steepling together once more, and watched their reactions...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>