While the others attended parties and chased down leads, Kennoch kept watch on their lodgings...and brooded. He thought that waiting for a renowned, deadly killer would occupy his mind, but as time went on without any incident, Kennoch couldn't help but sink back into his anxiety concerning Galimina. He paced the apartments muttering to himself within his sapphire-encrusted helmet. Shame and dread chased one another during his waking hours, and in his dreams, a well-dressed servitor joined the old host of Warp horrors.

I will report her, he swore again and again. When the time is right. Soon. Soon! I...I will!

And even under the best of circumstances, the young Navigator wouldn't enjoy having "just a chat" with any hereteks. Not unless they were strapped to a torture device and destined for a bullet in the head afterward. So it was probably for the best that when Anika arranged her meeting, Kennoch was on a shuttle back to the Sting for a conversation with his own criminal. Sargon might be a loathsome wreck of a man, a living cautionary tale of the Warp's effects, but Echo found him easier to comprehend. If he took the time to dwell on this, that fact probably should've unsettled him.

Nonetheless, Kennoch needed to get away for a bit and confess something to someone. If he wasn't ready to sign his own death warrant with the Mechanicus or the Inquisition yet regarding Galimina, then he could at least tell Sargon what he learned from the Astropaths and get the elder's thoughts in return.

It felt good to escape the atmosphere, leave the dirt behind, and hear all the old familiar sounds of a mechanical environment. The Rings relaxed slightly too, instantly more comfortable. Isund stretched and smiled. "Good to be back home, yes, Lord Castermire?"

Kennoch kept looking out the shuttle window at the approaching Sting. Behind his helmet, he scowled. You damned Shrike. All I wanted was to travel the galaxy with you and serve our captain together, but you had to go and grow a mind for yourself, and now you've condemned us all. When Isund repeated his comment, Kennoch finally turned to him and managed a simple "Hmm hmm hmm."

The Rings exchanged glances, as they often had these past several weeks, and wondered yet again what was behind their master's strange behavior lately.

But soon they were aboard, and Kennoch wasted no time hurrying back to his spire. He took a wide path around the Bridge, having no desire to run into Hannabel--She hugged it!--and certainly not her special friend. Kennoch's odd familiars bounded and flew and jostled one another playfully around him while he stiffly marched to his little fief. The lower levels of the Navigator's tower were surely busier now, crowded with many of the Rings he'd hired near the Lathes. Though, few of them probably had the nerve to venture up to the top where Kennoch performed his delicate work, and where he kept his obscene prisoner. Sargon's ugly presence was the least terrible thing weighing on Echo's mind these days; when he ascended to the upper level and beheld the tank, Kennoch almost felt a bit of...if not relief, then familiarity. The devil he knew.

"Tell me tell" he ordered by way of greeting "what you know know you know about the Witch-Cursed World Witch Cursed."