Ilario opened his mouth with a look of offended indigence, ready to snap a comment of equal measure, only to snap his jaw shut, instead, and have his expression turn to consideration. His position shifted, weight moving more to one foot than the other, left arm crossing over his chest, right elbow resting on left wrist, and thumb and forefinger lightly gripping his chin as he thought. “I don’t believe so, Mr. Guthrie. Then again, my memory tends to get spotty the farther back it goes, so I suppose it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility.”
The elf popped out of his musings rather suddenly, then, grinning in delight and holding his hands out toward Al as if to present him to the world. “But to have a lawyer on the team! How very wiz! It will be good to know I will be working with someone as wicked and cunning as I!” That grin turned smug, again, and he clapped Al on the shoulder companionably.
When it came to the matter of appearances, both with the many teeth of Shrike and the horribly scarred hands of Al, it seemed that Ilario either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care.
And then there was the matter of Alessandra.
Ilario turned to the woman, arms held out in a welcoming gesture. “And you, my dear girl. How long has it been since we’ve last spoken? Come! Old friends should hug, should they not?” The warm, jovial smile remained as he spoke…except for the final question, when it shifted to an impish smirk.