He snaps up the dagger, and makes it disappear into his clothing. "Nope, not a word. Ain't noone come ta see ol' Fenster, ever since they left, a few days ago. They'll be back, though, ye can bet on that."<br/><br/>With the deal settled, he leads the way out of his warehouse, with his odd, lurching gait, moving fairly quickly in spite of it, though he has to pause frequently to cough, and leads them through the Underbridge, to about a block away from their destination. "There ya go, right in tha' ol' burned out warehouse, she is. Might wanna be careful, she keeps company there, an' they don't like people pokin' aroun' in their business. Few people do." He grins again. "If yer ever in need of anythin' else, jest come see ol' Fenster, an he'll be ready ta help." He gives the two of them a slight bow, then scurries away, like a rodent fleeing into the shadows.<br/><br/>The warehouse has seen better days. Its clapboard sides are dark with mildew and marred by scorch marks. In places fire has gutted portions of the roof ’s moss-covered tile shingles, but the building appears to be structurally intact. The building stands near the stark wall of the Seacleft, and scree from several decades of minor rockfalls has piled up along its southern face.