She's close in seeing him as an Elf: he'd once compared himself to their kind, in a faery tale retelling of his life. Her curtsey satisfies his ego more than it should. But he refocuses, bowing his head to her. "No need for formalities here. We are both Sleepers, after all," he says. "And since we are on first name basis already, Airy, you may call me Adrian."

The weasel looks up with a smudge of dirt on their snoot, paws still digging. "Oy, does that make me a knight?" Their master chuckles affectionately.