There's a lightness in his gait, a newfound sense of purpose, and having earnest company's undoubedly the cause. It brings them quickly across the lawn before they can be otherwise waylaid, lady luck on their side. Edmund keeps on conspiring close by his side, and it's actually a welcome thing, not to hold his chin high or be craned down at, in order to stay a part of the conversation.

"Any old handkercheif'll do, my dear Watson." He quips back, rolling his eyes at the thought of the absent-minded professor with his thick glasses and big whiskers puffing on a pipe and pulling out a powder brush. "...Besides, it's just a little nip we're pinching, I hope you're not planning to drink the poor sod dry- He still has essays to grade, and his mother's not well!"

Edmund seems happy to leave most of the incriminating business to him, though, and Ienzo isn't quite sure of him yet to let him play light accomplice, particularly at the door. You never know how easily a fellow might crack under pressure and sell you out in a flash. He's seen it happen enough times.

"Brush the rust off and have at it, man, there's no need to waste an opportunity like Private Education!" Ienzo insists, giving him a sound clap on the shoulder, as if letting him get on his knees in front of the understairs cabinet and fumble with the lockpicks a little is a magnanimous gesture of a learning experience. "Don't worry, I'll have your back."