There were times when Khaal was, ironically, wrongly accused of something. It was rare for the ancient man to be caught when he actually did any murdering, knowing better than to stay anywhere near the crime scene. That and, well, his murders were often presented as accidents, so skillfully done in his own mind's eye that this slaughtering of royals seemed awfully clumsy by comparison. Granted, he did recognize that the murders were done with the intent on being discovered publicly. Points for the dramatic effect, he supposed.

The whole thing was beyond amusing to the immortal, especially when a handful of serious-looking people grabbed him and began half-dragging him somewhere. They first frisked him of course, leaving him with only one knife that he'd hidden too skillfully for them to find. Oddly enough, they let him keep the bottle of wine he had liberated from the arena's cellar, as well as the half-full glass he had at the time.

Perhaps they thought it was too much of a hassle to take it away from him. The man had already gotten on the hunters' nerves enough with his needling comments, that they probably thought they'd get even more of it if they mistreated him further. Had they known him even a little, they could've guessed they would get an earful anyway. Khaal just never knew how to keep his mouth shut. It was just too fun to prod and mock.

"Woah!" Khaal protested as the hunters shoved him unceremoniously into a dimly-lit room. He nearly crashed into the meager table provided, but his grace of an immortal let him balance well enough to not spill a drop of the wine.

"Gentlemen, was that really necessary?" The ancient man gave a fake sigh of frustration, setting the bottle and glass down. His hosts didn't answer him, as expected, getting a tsk out of the man before he settled himself into one of the chairs present.

He was collecting tense glares and glowers from the trackers, who placed themselves at the exit to make sure he didn't escape. As if they could stop him. As if he was even willing to try just yet. He was far too curious to know where this was going to leave the party so early. Instead, Khaal lounged in his chair, idly taking a sip of his dark wine as his gaze roamed the room. Shadowy and dank, he supposed it was picked for intimidation factor. Nobody sane liked to be tossed into a dark, scary room, potentially infested with bugs and rats, and with prison guards blocking the exit.

Running a hand through his hair to fix its disheveled state, his blue eyes went to the entrance just as a familiar figure stepped through. It brought a smile to the ancient man's face, as though he was seeing an old friend, not his interrogator for the evening.

"Ahhh, how lovely to see you again, my good man." Khaal purred at him, saluting him with his glass. "I do hope you brought your own glass. I was unable to procure one in all this..." The man gestured idly at one of the trackers. "...commotion."

"How may I help you today, mmm?"