Simon flashes Lancelot a distracted smile by way of greeting as he pulls out his phone, reviewing the details of the case. It's not as if he hadn't been reading and re-reading Elizabeth's text on the bus over here, but he's nervous.

He takes a cursory sniff. "Doesn't smell like fae," he says, feeling intensely awkward that part of the reason he's even here is his canine sense of smell. "I'm only smelling humans, but that could mean anything." Witches, metahumans. Shit, Simon's best friend is one step away from being able to control people like this, should he decide to develop his own particular powers of persuasion. Scary.

He glances over to Elizabeth. "Lots of, uh, perfume in the air, it being a girl's school and all. The alcohol numbs my nose a bit, so I'm not entirely sure how much more specific I can get. Sorry."

They're not even inside yet and he's already starting to get a headache.