There is a time and a place, Mairon thinks, for burning shit to the ground in annoyance. This was perhaps, one of those times, but the cat (at least that was what it called itself) made it very, very clear that burning things in the Library was very much prohibited. And not in the way that made the Maia want to laugh and do it anyway, but in the way that made it actually impossible. Which was... impressive. He was going to have to find out how this place did that.

Sooner rather than later.

As it stood now, he was no longer in the Library. At least, he didn't think he was. It was far warmer.

The Maia snorts, and with a thought the sand disappears from around him and it becomes obvious that he was not alone.

Men.

The Maia just barely contains an eyeroll. There was a play nice rule in effect until he was able to figure the ways of this place out, until he could figure out how everyone worked, how he might manipulate them for Melkor's gain. SO, instead of cutting the tongues out of the idiots that dare speak to him with such a tone, Marion steps forward with something of a charming smile upon his face.

Well, charming if he did not tower over them both, in swathes of fabric so black it seemed not even light could escape it, ringed with red and gold, much like his eyes.

"You suggest I reveal myself? Or you ask that I might do such a thing." His voice is tinged with amusement, carefully cultivated and showing no signs of his annoyance. "However, Tarkin, " He pauses, a moment where his mind is but barely there between the three of them. "And Krennic, it is a pleasure to make something like your acquaintance."

There is another moment before Mairon bows, shallowly, gold eyes amused. "I am Mairon, I believe we are here thanks to that infernal Library?"