The Tailor exchanged the glance with the Huntsman, already weary. They'd half a mind to argue, but Tularemia was still on their arm and they could imagine her displeasure. What they said, then, was a bark at Mori.

"If anyone will be doing stitching this evening, it will be the one whose job centers on it!"

They huffed a bit, then addressed Enoch again. "I'll do what I can to wrangle the fellow. Go on, he'll keep."