"I would have picked the right place for it, at least."

Gilbert laughs, craning his neck back to look towards the winged memorial overhead. If he were truly in a Messianic mood, that would have more of his attention than the book now tucked atop his lap. He flips shut the cover - all those "begats" were getting old, anyway - and folds his hands over it, all his focus migrating to Liir, instead.

"I don't think I'll die of sitting out in the snow for an hour." Not when the Mansion's front door is only a few yards behind him, anyway. If this were self-destructive, rather than just reckless, he'd have made for the lakehouse. "Though, you're welcome to wait with me, if you'd like to be sure?"