As if Molly's going to argue with her fun! It's amusing for them both after all, but he doesn't mind being set down to snoop about. It's miles better than a bedroll in the woods, and given he's spent most of his days living in circus tents well, it's practically palatial in comparison.

But what the heck was this kitchen? He assumed it was a kitchen, there were counters and a sink, and a table to eat at...

"Do they now? What a wonderful sort of convenience, my word." He was interrupted in his fiddling with the faucet and knobs by the ring of the key being tossed, caught easily enough as he flashed her a sunny smile. "You are the patron saint of foolish tieflings Harley, I truly mean that."