[ Yseult's head tips, brows shifting. Let's hope, they say. A little horrifying to think that this might be them with dumb luck. She lets out a breath, straightens, and then eases back into a more casual posture, an elbow hooked over the chairback. ]

How were things, in our absence? Nothing seems to have burned. My files appear--mostly in order. No one sprang the trap in the desk. [ She smiles, like it might be a joke. (Of course it's not.) ]