Errol nodded once, slowly at her mention of the opera. He remembered her dancing with someone, but his usually sharp memory didn't quite recall the man himself. He had been paying more attention to Beauty and how she looked in that dress, and how she moved and smiled.
His face darkened as she continued speaking. He hadn't been near Arkham, but he'd heard of it. He read the newspaper on a fairly regular basis. He wouldn't have wanted any of his few friends near that place, much less inside of it. A muscle in his jaw jumped and one of his hands clenched at his side, but otherwise he gave no sign of his fury at those who had imprisoned Beauty. Or his shame at not having been there to rescue her.
"I see," he said quietly. He made his way over to where she sat, taking a free space on the couch. His furniture, like the rest of his apartment, was simple but comfortable and kept in excellent condition. "Are you afraid that this man will come after you again?"
Not that it mattered either way for Errol's purposes; if Nigma was still free, Errol intended to find him. There were police, and there were Grammaton Clerics. There was a reason that his kind had been so feared in Libria.