Even if Stephen has technically moved out of the Gallows proper, he's not hard to find. The late afternoon sun is streaming in the windows as she makes her way downstairs to the head healer's office. (She's willing to venture out to the infirmary if she needs to, but this time of day, her odds are better that he's just a floor removed.)

When she knocks on the door frame, it's not so unusual. She stops down to consult with him reasonably frequently. But usually she's got a book or some papers under one arm; today her hands are free, though there is a small pouch attached to her belt.

"Hey, you got a minute? Or maybe several, if you don't have a boat curfew."