The Logisteum is an impressive room, clearly made for serious work and serious discussions and often filled with uniforms of every rank. Just now, however, it's empty save for a single soldier who sits at a display screen, working furiously with a closed-off frown as she waits. Briseis leans into her screen and exhales a slow breath. "Pity," Briseis replies, her lips quirking in a faint, dry smile as she steps toward him to peer at the papers he's laid out. Her smile fades into a creased frown. "I do," she answers quietly. "Ah, fair enough. You'll die then."