He makes a face at that in that way, although he supposes he can't argue, with the way the presence or even echoes of certain people make every bit of cunning he can lay claim to slide out of his grasp. Shrugging, "He thought me his. Perhaps if my death had been intended as a punishment he would have taken more precautions. But he really believed that any he thought loyal would have gladly lain down our lives, like cloaks over a puddle, to keep his feet dry."
"Perhaps a few," he agrees, not saying yet which category they fall into. "And what are your intentions? Having been awake a good five minutes, you must have a plan or two, and a backup or six."
"No, not that contemporary," he shakes his head, with a tiny smirk. "They see, but do not observe, you mean?"