[Oh no it's a socialite... kill him dead now, God, please.

He rolls his eyes while the other young man chatters away and smoothly gets the disgruntled author out the door. Lutha just scans back through the notes left behind, leaning over the table and only lifting his eyes back up when he hears the door close.]

You'd make someone a good jester in another life. [It's said flatly, letting his gaze settle with a cold sharpness before dropping right back to the table, fishing out some empty parchment.] If you're planning to waste time, I'll argue against your share of the pay.