Rogier was sitting on the balcony of the Roundtable Hold, uttering to himself as he furiously turned through the pages of an old book he'd borrowed from Ofnir; at a price, of course. The man was so engrossed with his studies of Death, that he'd hardly noticed the Tarnished's presence until they stood directly before him.

"Ah, apologies my friend. I was simply locked in my study of glinstone." Rogier offered a polite smile as he lied so effortlessly; a silvertongue. Rogier shut the book a little too quickly, causing it to thump softly and echo in the open balcony.

"Anyway, it's always good to see you safe. So... what do you need?" He tried to ignore the sting that began to burrow through his legs as he sat there, trapped beneath the white sheet, and reeking of decay. It felt like something was clawing its way through him, tearing at the inside of his flesh insistently, and with it, draining away his once carefree energy.