"Found any followers here yet?" He tries to keep his tone light, though he knows that he is a taciturn man, that people think he's too serious. And she is right to worry about the Bureau. Their reputation is whispered, but it's said that sometimes, adepts disappear entirely, locked into one of their black cells until who knows when.
She hesitates, then half-smiles. The glow of the electric bulbs lighting the place reflects in her pupils, making them look alight. "Jon Snow. I thought Jon Snow might join me."
He cannot say anything to her now, but to give her a surprised look, then incline his head to her.
"I can't read all of it alone." She could. People do. He is not sure why she is saying this, and for a moment, he's skeptical: maybe she's just trying to do away with a rival by drawing him into the fold. He helps her study Forge lore and never touches the Mansus himself, never passes the true doors.
The trouble is that there doesn't seem to be a fold yet, as it were. She wants to create one. She wants him to be a disciple, but nearly an equal. This could be more trouble in the future.
He is already thinking in terms of a future. That's trouble too.
