[For a moment, he wavers, almost preferring to stay standing. To allow that little bit of distance between them, something that feels like it should be necessary after what happened. But Ren taps the chair, and after only another moment's hesitation, he sits, though his posture is stiff and uncertain.

Ren's directness brings another snort to his lips as he lights the cigarette and brings it to his lips.]

Straight to the point, hm? [he observes, a note of fondness breaking through the weariness in his voice. He exhales thoughtfully, watching the smoke dissipate into the cool autumn air, then glances sideways to Ren.]

I'm not the one who was murdered by a giant crow. Again, the question is better suited to you.