[Soren's pause may be in part borne of his hesitance in letting strangers know where he dwells, but more critically it's due to racking his brain for knowledge that should come easily to him. He grimaces to himself, lifts his head to pine for a reality beyond his troubled reflection, casts away certain truths by doing so and then sends his solemn gaze out into the milky wash of the Coven grounds. He buries just how at a loss he is with peremptory refusal of assistance.]

If you are offering to escort me, there is no need to trouble yourself. I... [Yes, that's right. A reassuring reminder in the lithe silhouette of a cat helps to stabilize his bearing.] I have someone I can rely on and call upon. He knows where I live.

[And suddenly, so does he. But who knows how long his slippery brain cells will hold onto that information? If Mogget serves as a reminder, then... maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let him tag along lest he forgets? Then it would also save poor Ranulf the trouble.]

But... hmph. It might not be a bad idea to have someone talk sense into me when I need it. It's up to you.