She looks from Cullen down the basket to what must be the largest dog she's ever seen-- or else the most canine-looking small horse. A smile quirks at the corner of her lip, and she holds the door open.

"That sounds delightful. Please, come in." The irony is of course that she's a prisoner and he doesn't need to ask her permission to enter the room she's been graciously provided in lieu of a cell. The fact he asked anyway speaks well of him, in her opinion.

"I was just in the middle of this magical treatise." Sitting on the bed with a corner of the blanket marking a page is the most hideously thick old tome imaginable. "Brick" seems too small a comparison for its girth. "Magic here functions so differently than what I'm used to. It's quite compelling."

She gestures. "Please, make yourself comfortable. And introduce me to this great beast."