Gildrim remains standing with his head on one side, inspecting the painting. "This ane's a wumman, for shuir," he declares. He considers levering it off the wall and is a little slow to react to Erf's declaration.
"Eh, whit? Whit're ye doin'? Och, carefu' noo. It's haes tae be a trap. Naebody woud hae a magic caibinet."