It's her again. The woman from the library of memories. The woman who chastised him about his reckless hunger for knowledge yet still helped him when she turned out to be right. She's rather difficult to miss, with those wings and those horns. And because he does owe her, he does his best not to stare openly. Victor is still working though his Victorian sensibilities about tight short dresses with fringe on them.

He makes it a point to look only at her face, at her eyes. It'll keep him from ending up tongue tied and scandalized. He's still unnerved by the color, so close to that of his First.

He gives his heavy metal mask another weak tug. "I've found that they seem overly fond of word play by half. But why they'd want a secret, I haven't the faintest idea. They don't seem overly concerned to hear them." Which means he's puzzled it out but hasn't been able to speak a secret. "In fact, looking at them, they mostly just seem terribly inebriated."