Huron stares at the market, his knowing facade utterly cracked. A mere few months in Sigil had not prepared him for this place, and despite his attempts to blend in, he does not fit in here. Not in a place as utterly corrupt as the Night Market.
He is almost too distracted to search for Eliath, and by the time Gnoryc mentions the man's absence, he slowly shuts his previously slack jaw.
"No Eliath here, hm? Perhaps, one of the...." things? Creatures? Horrors? "people here might be able to find him. Sniff him out, or scry his location."