For the immediate moment, they are safe. The Mist's reluctance to test the house's gaps leaves Kellon with mixed feelings. He brushes off the man's comments. This one looked as soft and weak as they came, a hollow and rigid reed that would snap at the first gust. The man seems just as confused as the villagers, but is obviously another outsider. What even was a 'novelist', anyway? Reluctantly, Kellon stows his warhammer and accepts the strange warmblood custom of handshaking, having to take care not to accidentally flay the man with his claws. "Kellon," he says simply. Looking past the man as if he was yet another spirit, Kellon addresses Gweyir. "I know that you are tired, Gweyir, but something strange is going on with this house. I refuse to rest until I know that this place is secure. We should go together, room by room, and check this place from top to bottom. Then we might actually have a chance at some rest in this gods-forsaken place."