There were certain uncertainties, certainly. Flockton plied his trade, their trade, as usual, by the looks of it, and given that masquerade business, it would probably not be wise to just barge in with the whole set of vampire-related questions Faruq found himself entertaining now. All the more since he still didn't know whether he had actually been disowned, and whether or not he was still considered a part of the company, despite the assurances of his tormentors. And then there was the fact that some part of his still wanted for this all to be a particularly bad trip or nightmare.

No, he'd wait for Flockton to bring up the important topics, let the guy make the first move. He did have something of a standing in case of an argument this time around: It had been Flockton, not he himself, who had caused this whole mess by selling out to... what was basically the enemy, after all. The level of danger inherent in this whole affair was unknowable, but the points mostly checked in his favor, or so it seemed. And even then, Flockton being the harsh-but-fair-even-though-scary-when-mad type of guy the younger man remembered him as, it likely wouldn't even have to come that far.

And as such, he made sure to look halfway respectable, assume a semblance of alertness that came to him far more easily now then ever to his memory, and approached, casual like: "Evening, Charles. I interrupting anything?"