He gives him a searching look, and then simply nods.

"You are a strange one, to prefer the sunlight," he remarks, but he doesn't feel the need to press him. The man's tale had been outlandish enough that he can accept other strangeness as well, for the moment - and it's not as if Jarlaxle doesn't prefer the sun, himself.

"If you wish to hurry to the Surface before you say more," he says, sweeping his hand through the air, leaving a thin blue line that opens into a portal to a surface entrance, "we will take the quickest way. It would take several days' travel from here, otherwise."

He motions for Azrael to step in.