Well, yes, this is bizarre, he thinks to himself, grey blue eyes blinking at the rat that had been pulled out of nowhere.

But so is Kronid, isn't he? He likes rats. They're plentiful, they breed, they aren't missed when they're gone, and they're everywhere.

"So these rats...they...act for you? Are they magical, like the rest of the house?"

Pretense of conversation. His fingernails find the edge of the teacup. Tap tap tap.

His stomach churns, but he keeps his expression neutral.