It's thankfully not a far walk; five blocks at worst. Micolash seems fine with no small talk or continued chatter as they make their way there. He mutters to himself instead, more wrapped up in that to begin with. Dreamily murmuring about 'Kos some say Kosm' and 'grant us eyes', repeating the phrases with others equally strange.

Arrival at the grand library brings Micolash to a stop at its steps, then turns himself around to see if his tag-along made the trip as well.

"Here we are, here we are," he says cheerily, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Almost possible for a man to get lost in there, it's so large." Or, you know, slip under the radar and overnight there in some overlooked nook or neglected aisle. "It really has been such a pleasure. I do hope we speak again..." The scholar offers his hand stiff and hesitantly. Having to momentarily review the situation and determine if handshakes are proper at this juncture.

He, of course, has forgotten about the issue of getting any further blood on him. It just plain won't register as offputting.