Liir does, in fact, look passably composed. This is what draws Gilbert up short when he raises his eyes, because for all that he still doesn't feel it. Unease might as well be coming off of him like heat, and for once its object is so shrouded and internal that Gilbert cannot begin to scry it.

He pulls back so there's most of an arm's length between them, both palms flat against Liir's chest. Now he looks worried.

"As if I mind; I could have guessed that!"

He's wincing despite himself.

"What is it...?"