( The shift of Thancred's body language is subtle enough that it imght go unnoticed by most, but Urianger is well-versed in his friend's subtle tells. He feels another pang of shame for the careless way he'd spoken to him earlier: it's now more than evident that he's ... tired, for wont of a better word, and working hard to make sense of his time in this place, and very possibly expending more of his energy than he rightly should be in order to make it work.

Urianger sighs. That has ever been Thancred's way, hasn't it? He makes a mental note to return the library before he retires for the evening; his powers may have waned since his arrival, yes, but there are natural recipes and remedies for teas that might invigorate the spirit, and Urianger would offer him whatever little comfort he can.

More immediately pressing to their conversation is the matter of Thorne's ... restrictions. Urianger's brow pinches into a frown as he considers that little sliver of information: he'd already considered their relative lack of freedom suspicious, but to know that the guard presence around the borders is on the increase is concerning to say the last. )

Aye, their restrictions hath not gone unnoticed.

( He replies, his gaze one of glazed contemplation. )

Dost thou hast any inclination as to why this might be? I hath yet to form an opinion of our ever-gracious hosts, but if it should come to light that we are akin to captives ...

( His focus sharpens again as he looks at Thancred. )

'Twould be a grave development indeed.