"Well, there wouldn't be any need for a talking hat, either," Chance points out. "But fair enough." She pauses. Without thinking, she finds herself tracing a seven-sided figure on the tabletop, and makes her finger stop, folding her hands so she can't do that anymore. "If you don't mind my asking, in a place where no one can die why would anyone need a bodyguard?"

It's none of Chance's business and she doesn't care enough to pursue the question if Henry deflects it, but she is curious.

"I've met her brother. Seems like too much of a drunk to pose any real problems." Chance has found Charles Macaulay decidedly unimpressive.