Dr. Vetzhul clicked his tongue, frustrated. He had a repertoire around these parts, and any business conducted would be seen as just that, business. It wasn't that he cared if these two knew about the man inside, he just preferred to compartmentalize things separately. The man would be gone by evening anyway.
His frustration flashed over his face, but only for a brief moment before he regained his composure. He turned his back to his visitors, brave for a place like Zantaric, and pushed the door open. With a welcoming gesture, he waved them in "Very well. If it must be indoors, you may come in."
The rattling began again. "Pay no mind to the sound, I am simply dealing with a particularly difficult patient."
Vermillion would have rathered they stayed outside. Ironically, to them, it felt almost safer out there than in the man's house. They understood that this was par for the course for Vesd, but their last job was at a desk for a noble. They'd never had to handle this sort of thing.
Subconsciously, Vermillion pushed closer to Vesd's side and held their files to their chest. Internally they were screaming at themselves that looking meek made them a target, something they've certainly had to learn in the past, but this was new grounds and Vesd seem to know what he was doing.
The interior of the home is what one would expect of a doctor, but not what one would expect from a doctor in Zantaric. The entrance led into a small foyer that opened into a traditional treating room. There was arches on the northern and eastern walls, the former leading into a hallway lined with doors, the latter was pitch black. There was comfy seating tucked in the southwestern corner, where Wolfram offered them a seat.