Just a beat of non-reaction, and then he smiles — a genuine smile, if one which may be unsettling nonetheless.

"So they are in good hands," Rodolphus says, casual and diffident, yet unmistakably pleased. Perhaps it's a bit of a morbid pleasure, to enjoy that the right person would be in possession of the few things left he himself enjoyed, but then, Rodolphus. He would have left them to her had he had the opportunity anyway.