[Oh yes, this interaction is oozing with kind of a weird guy. Something about Ortus Nigenad is unerringly somber and reserved, even in an action as small as taking a piece of chalk, and a habitually twitchy and restless creature like Palamedes Sextus is struck by the sensation that he's talking to molasses, if molasses were a person.

In the nicest way, of course. The Ninth are peculiar in ways he's always found very quaint, so. Palamedes also looks toward the house, brow furrowed ever so slightly.]

Sure. [...] Did they ask you to serve? Have you got a bell in there, or something?

[He can maybe imagine Harrow saying the words to comply with tradition, but Gideon, ask someone to serve? Seems wack. Ortus Nigenad is an odd duck, no offense.]

You've got the right idea not to stay in there, at least. That house is so— [hm wait maybe don't say something offensive to the devout, it's not like he's Eighth and deserves it] —overwhelming.