"Oh no, you're not getting away that easy," the Lark announces, weaving through tunnels it's literally his job to navigate. There's a flicker of black and a red-tipped feather rounding a corner, and he knows he's got her. "Nice job back there-- Avalon, right? Lorcan. Don't think we've met-- didn't see you at the last Lark meeting." He's gaining, and grinning. She can hear it in his voice. "Come to think, none of the Lark meetings... Hey, who ranked you, anwyay?"

   He's fucking with her, goading the Sanguine to stop short and turn, see him smiling. There's never been a Lark meeting, aside from the odd hazing-- and if anybody gets in without getting through him, he's gonna be pissed.