It isn’t exactly a motivated answer, and it lacks any sort of definitive plans for future endeavors...but Gabranth supposes he can hardly expect the man to become Larsa overnight.

Or at all.

A few turns, an intentional course cut (one Benedict himself might recognize), and they stand outside the room where they’d first met in short order. Gabranth expects there’s some degree of comfort found inside for the mage, and at the very least, a place to warm himself.

Once inside, he shuts the door behind him.

“Jone of Denerim has seen my face.”