"Afternoon," says Martin with a nod, dunking his biscotti into his latte for one last bite before the conversation begins.

It'd been easier to admit to the Hero of Kvatch that you were a daedra worshiper in your youth when the realm's future depended on the knowledge acquired through those years of debauchery. Yet here, there's no context to paint Martin in a light other than heretic and demon worshiper.

Not that the titles are undeserved, that's exactly what he was. Still, he's afraid of what Nathaniel might think of him. Some people aren't as forgiving as the Divines.

"I suppose I should...ask you what did you hear," he stares at the table, avoiding direct eye contact, "...so I don't waste your time."