The constant night of Nocwich was freaking Kelson out thank you very much. He wasn't the kind to be scared of the dark but really, it just wasn't natural. The sun was supposed to come up at dawn. In terms of the stalls and items, Kelson was torn between looking at them oh so carefully, trying to discern what in the world they could be made out of, and kindly, slowly, walking away.

He was saved from that decision by the voice, whom he turned to meet. The accent was blessedly familiar at least, although the one that came out of his own mouth had a bit more welsh to it.

Kelson gave the other a wry grin. "I'm afraid back home I'm not exactly allowed time alone. This is a new experience." He was quite sure hiding in the Royal Crypts to 'pray' didn't count. "Kelson Haldane, King of Gwynedd, among other titles that don't seem to matter here."