Idris entered the Triangular Forum and looked around; the crowd had thinned considerably by now, yet he couldn't detect a sign of Spurius or, the worse alternative, overly active soldiers. Good. This meant that his friend had most likely made it home safely, and the Silure exhaled audibly, releasing a good deal of tension. He realised strongly how anxious he was for their safety, and how helpless he could feel. He was used to and utterly capable of taking care of himself, but protecting people like this was new to him – especially if these people didn't heed his advice. A small smile curled his lips – he wouldn't have either, he'd already have gone mad if he'd been stuck to this small room. On the other side he was feeling a little bit proud of Spurius – he'd done quite well so far. And he positively marvelled at Eirik – he wouldn't have been able to spend such a long period of time inside. Idris well knew it wasn't fear that kept the Northerner confined.

He crossed the Forum at a leisurely pace, stopping every now and then at one of the stalls, just another Barbarian strolling around. At first he'd been amazed how many foreign looking people were running around in these parts of the world, but then he'd realised that Pompeii was a harbour town and therefore some kind of crossroads for maritime trade. He'd also seen a handful of Northerners, so Eirik probably wouldn't stick out as much as he'd assumed, but still he thought it best for them to hide away as long as possible. A place in the countryside would be ideal, he mused, a place to hide away and yet enjoy fresh air and wind upon the skin, the kiss of sunlight and the caress of the moon herself. Since he couldn't think of anything to remedy the situation, Idris shoved this thought aside and concentrated on his growling stomach instead.

The Silure stopped at one of the food vendors and bought a handful of olives for a quick bite while proceeding to the Odeion. At one point he thought to have spotted a familiar face, but since it might be better not to know Sextus in public he pressed on, wondering what the Roman might have found out by now, and if so, whether it would confirm his suspicions. Just as he swallowed the last olive he spotted the eye-catching combination of red and blond hair of Philandros and Olaf glowing in the midday sun. The two of them were standing near the entrance, and again Idris was amazed by the striking semblance of father and son. Olaf towered Philandros as he stood straightened, shielding his eyes from the sun as his gaze searched the area around the Odeion.

Olaf spotted the Silure immediately and bowed down to whisper into Philandros' ear. The young Greek followed the Northerner's gaze and smiled at the approaching man, though with a slightly quizzical expression since Idris closed in alone. Just as the Silure opened his mouth in greeting, an especially off-key sound from within the Odeion made him close it again and stared at the building in mock horror. "So this is the far-famed sound of a Greek choir?" Philandros smiled good-naturedly and waved his hand in a mock gracious gesture. "Oh yes, and we're well aware that it's much too cultivated for a Barbarian's ear …" Both men smiled, and this smile turned into a chuckle as Olaf's puzzled voice cut in: "But was not good, was off-key …!"

Idris looked at the younger version of Eirik, and the smile transformed into a more serious expression. "I'm sorry I came alone, but I didn't want to … bring my friend along at this time of day." He gazed at the two young men. "The bright sunlight does not agree with him at the moment, you know." The young Greek nodded thoughtfully. "I see. And what time of day would be best for him?" Idris smiled – inexperienced in all things obscure he might be, but the redhead adjusted quickly. "How about one hour after nightfall?"