Arturia is keeping herself sort of busy. Sort of. She has that copy of Le Morte d'Arthur in her lap and Excalibur testing against the wall next to her where she's sitting near the door, mostly as some sort of self-imposed sentry duty and mental self-flagellation reading about her failure over and over again. Good job, Arturia. When Hercules enters, she scrambles to her feet, the scabbarded blade held loosely in her left hand.

"Hello and welcome." Arturia eyes Hercules, trying to decide if he should be counted as a threat or not.

"You're new."