Well. This was a talk that probably had to happen at some point ever.

Darcy, fixture of the graveyards, tender to the dead, conversationalist with ghosts and connoisseur of the different flavours of grief, comes by just outside the range of an intimate conversation, setting himself nearby to sit on a nearby rock, not stand.

Mortanne gets a small salute.

"Boss," he greets, "I'll cut to the chase, is anything you want me to be doing?"