"As I perceive our motley party has gathered," Mikhail said with a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, obviously bothered by the somewhat clumsy way the lizard-man had moved close to them, "I suggest we proceed to the upper floor, so that we may meet with your mistress," he gave a nod towards the young girl, stifled a low burp and wiped his somewhat greasy fingers on one of the few remaining cloth-towels. As he moved to pick up his scarf the tools in his belt clinked and clanged as they wavered by the motion, and his imposingly large handgun looked almost alive; ready to shoot anyone who wasn't watching...
which, of course, was silly. It was just a gun, a large gun indeed, but someone like Mikhail would have made certain to install some kind of safety system... right?
"As much as I hate rushing my meals, I am quite interested in meeting Lady Flitoverlakes," he wrapped the scarf around his face, once more covering the lower part entirely, and as he continued to speak his tone was once again the slightly muffled, yet thankfully less talkative voice. He slid his hands through the arms of his trenchcoat and the shuffle of cloth came as a surprise to those who'd seen him take it off; it looked stiff enough to give off crackles when moved.
"Now then, do lead the way," he said to the girl, yet before she could give him a response he had put on his thick gloves, given a final low burp and then begun to walk towards the staircase, once more showing either complete disdain, restlessness or simple absent-mindedness.