[ Ah. Met before they most certainly have. (A decent reminder to check on blob, alive and well in a stolen crate tucked away in the corner of the southern tower, where - he hopes - it hasn't yet seen and tried to emulate any of their more daring feats of dragon battle.) And so when Wrathion makes his appearance, Stephen doesn't need a second glance to recognise him.

He himself is largely unchanged since that first meeting, though the desert suit's been replaced not with the struggling garments of Alem but his own robes. He's yet to try on anything here that he's found any warmer.

A raised hand in greeting at his approach, and once they're in comfortable enough earshot of one another for Stephen to talk at a volume that'll disappear into the hubbub for anyone stood further away: ]

I don't how long until we're collected, but we should have some time.

[ To talk. And to prepare, just in case. On which note... ]

I assume their willingness to meet shows a lack of ill will. But if things go badly, I can get us out of the way quickly.