[ Astarion remains standing, his head cocked slightly so he can keep an eye on her expression — on the pallor of her features. ]

No, they aren't a particularly helpful lot, [ he hums, his mouth briefly twisting into a displeased slant. ] Everything we know — paltry as the sum is — has been scraped together from circumstance and investigation, rather than the generosity of our hosts or their serving staff.

—I'm afraid mystery will be a constant, my dear.