For Azigh to come to him, and greeting him as a Master, was a good feeling. It was a sudden, unexpected reinforcement of his new reality: his new rank, his new authority, his new responsibility. It swelled his chest just a little with what he hoped was well-earned pride. His initial greetings--a murmured "We are well, thank you. And you?" and so forth were quickly replaced by more important matters.

...Ahh, but the responsibility that came with being a Master: here it was. He peered at Draconua, listening solemnly as Azigh spoke. And for a moment, Master Vargas was silent, coming up with an appropriate, but respectful enough, response. He'd never been quite a wordsmith, but he wasn't a fool, either; he'd certainly had to do the verbal dance of "flattery, but not idiocy" around Nemean enough and that dance had "potentially fatal" written in each misstep. When he cleared his throat, then, it was with vague bemusement but genuine respect--not deference, no, but as one might speak to an equal, a colleague.

What was it Azigh had last said-? He would not let this happen a second time? "As well you shouldn't. This one is not one of my creations, but I apologize regardless. I can assure you that none of mine would do such a thing--and if they ever do, certainly come to me at once. And if Draconua attacks Pegasus again," he added, looking to her, "feel free to retrieve me if you want company in subduing her." That was a clear enough message, he thought: this wasn't his fault, exactly, but if she messed up again, he would be pitted against her. A warning to her; a promise to Azigh.

He looked at Azigh's... arms, with again, dim amusement. "I've no idea who made her, in fact. She still grew beneath the Black Spire when we arrived. I hope it was not too much damage..?"

After a moment, Vargas stopped pretending as though she wasn't there, just a child they were talking about behind her back--and actually addressed her, and Azigh, both. "We may have something for you to do soon enough--and you may as well know if it, as well. I've had an offer of aid against the infection in Ursa. I expect to hear back from this... Gembound, soon enough. There may be combat, if we are lucky--you can focus your destructive efforts on that," Vargas added, glancing to Draconua again. He was pretty sure he'd mentioned this to her before, but it was solidified, now; once the little army or whatever was gathered in a cycle or so, they'd see.

Vargas's soft snort was a gentle one--he caught Azigh's meaning, and there was humor in him. At least Draconua seemed somewhat pleased; and Azigh mollified well enough. Vargas turned his attention back to the hand-faced Guardian.

"I will call those here, operating under me, the Chaos Forge for our purpose. Pegasus is close. I am sure many of mine use it for hunting; if damage is done, or if they hunt too many, inform me. And if ever you require aid with your charge, we are close by." A professional, and polite, offer of comradeship. He doubted it would ever be needed, but it was a useful offer, he knew: Vargas himself, along with the rest of the Forge, tended to be formidable fighters.

He looked to Draconua, then. "In the meantime, if you have another urge for mayhem, come to me. There are many of mine who could use the training of combat, no matter how brutal you decide to be--and other caves where you might wreak your havoc. Perhaps at some point you might take some of the Forge into Hydra; it is a deadly place, but whatever damage that you do will only increase the danger you are in. You might find it fun," he added, drily.