Dylas looks at the picture displayed on the iMog. It feels a bit like a punch to the gut, not that his facial expression changes any. Gladio has already pissed him off a little, but Dylas is going to use every ounce of what little of his personality isn't an asshole to help out here.

"Got it. I'll make this quick."

Once he's out of sight of the restaurant, Dylas hustles, moving at his full speed. He can't help but be a little concerned. His own sister comes to mind—or maybe she never was his sister. Margaret wouldn't want to be seen with him now, so that's great.

He slithers back into the restaurant with an elderly grandma of a Lalafell riding his tail like he's her mount. She gets off, ready to head into the back and start working, but she and Dylas exchange a few words before he's handing the iMog back to Gladiolus.

The look on his face says it all.

"We haven't seen anyone who looks like her. She looks...healthy." He's trying to say something nice, but saying 'cute' would be weird in a situation like this, right? Right. "You, uh...where else have you searched?" He heard that stomach growl, but he's not so sure he can keep the guy here against his will long enough to eat.