Eadwulf's frown deepened. Dragons weren't even a thing in the empire. Not anywhere Eadwulf went, at any rate. But universal gestures of disdain aside - which Eadwulf was familiar with, no explanation needed, thanks - there was the small matter of Diego standing in his shop, demanding answers.
If he'd been ten years younger, Eadwulf might have struggled to contain his ire. Trent wouldn't have liked him responding in such an obvious way, though, so those instincts were corralled, checked, smothered until they were little more than a whisper at the back of his mind.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I live here," Eadwulf said, forcing patience into his voice as he nodded toward the back, near the till, where he had spread a sleeping roll on the floor and where his clothes lay folded in a neat pile. His remaining few possessions were still in the satchel he had brought with him from his government-assigned housing. The retort still came out a touch more aggressively than intended, but he could pretend he was just matching Diego's tone.