The briefest flicker of something bordering on distaste shows in his face, but is there and gone again before it becomes fully identifiable as confusion.

(That motion of her hand better be some eccentric Rifter shit.)

"You're going to Cumberland with the mages," he says, stepping away from the window. It's not a question. Either she already was, or he's telling her to.

Without sitting, Flint retrieves an envelope from one of the desk's drawers.

"I need you to deliver this for me when you get there."