"Wait-" Viktor can't help it, he's up and leaning on his cane. Just a cane, no longer the crutch purely due to both the sleeper blood and certain measures he's been able to take. That Palamedes helped him look into, that should be easier still if his plan for his lungs manages to work out.

Speaking of that devil it tries to rear itself, Viktor hastily grabbing a rag and hacking into it with great, bodily shudders. If there's enough moonlight coming in from the entrance of the cave the red staining it will go to a pale, nearly iridescent color. He swallows, irritated as he straightens himself.

"What were his terms, or your terms for that matter? What would this image of Zaun look like?" He knows he's showing his hand far too much, too much interest, but he finds he can't help it. Let the man try to profit off it, or make his assessments through it, all of this news matters more than he thought it would.