Fast as fletching, Azuriel's finger is out, pointed, flashing between the captives.<br/><strong><br/>"Just those two.  For now.  We might send some up later."</strong>His hands somersaults in flourish as he adds,<strong>"And if some should simply fall into your lap, or be found, ripe for plucking, pluck away."</strong><br/><br/>He returns to lounging, watching the discomfort of the captives with ruthless disinterest.