Mycroft knows all about the business with the Candlelighters, but he hadn't been aware of Lyla's assignment in the Spatters. At least it's not until the evening. That should give her some time to sleep it off. He wonders if she's going alone; if so, the possibility that she's human has become much slimmer. And the 'poor folk' comment speaks for itself.

As her eyes widen, he can see her pupils are still dilated, but not so much that he can't clearly see the rings of blue that surround them. Darker than Sherlock's, he thinks, but it still feels as though echoes of his brother are everywhere.

"I was briefly informed about that," Mycroft says, regarding the death in Hellsing. An agent called Winchester. He looks Lyla over once more, and a few things come together.

"You knew him well."