Braddon looks around for something that isn't fish.
"Is this it?" he asks Gristav.
"I suppose we could join Saul for a free dinner."
"Hm?", Gristav asks, taking a moment to find the path to where is Braddon's understanding. "I was thinking we'd take the makings of a dinner back with us. For all. They don't just happen, you know. Saul's free dinner is, as far as I know, paid from Larur's pocket. And at least once, prepared by us: You, Sam, and me. The stew the other night, I fetched from the Duck. I don't suppose that we have to, fetch and cook, but I don't see it as a burden. Enough lonely fires, I suppose, to make any hard bench at a shared table comfortable." Gris smiles warmly.
"So what say you? Enough meat for all, and we do our best? Or find the closing stalls, and do for ourselves? As I said, it's no real duty, but also, no real burden."
"Unless you feel differently?"
"Oh."
Braddon briefly ponders the idea of contributing.
"Well, I'm happy to carry stuff back for you," Braddon relents magnanimously.
"Oh."
Braddon briefly ponders the idea of contributing.
"Well, I'm happy to carry stuff back for you," Braddon relents magnanimously.
"I doubt we'll buy so much as to need your back or shoulders, though very likely, very much, your hands..."
Gristav glides a quick path, twice, once to see what's on offer, and how near to gone each merchant was, and then a second time, with an eye more toward time than thrift. A meat, a green, or two, and some color...
Thuvalia gifts Snake with a smile, then leads the way through the parted sea of furniture. Retrieving her key from a pocket, she unlocks the door to her room. "There is to be dinner upstairs tonight?" she asks, kicking her shoes off. "Which reminds me, you may carry breakfast down here in the morning. Early exertion is bad for late evening performances."
Regardless he also asks "Did you manage to snare Almah at her luncheon?"
Various leafy greens are available, drooping a bit at the end of the day, and there's a bit of early corn. Berries are easy to find, as well as the first of the season's melons.
Snake remains outside the door, "Yeah I believe so." Carry breakfast down here? Snake thinks to himself, internally cringing at the humiliation, yet, oddly enough, finding her somewhat entertaining. "Breakfast, huh? And is there a 'too early' time to be here in the morning or do I just bring it by first thing?"
She turns to him, deadly serious. "Before the sun is up, I should not be up. But you should get there early before the best pastries have been taken. You fill my plate, feed yourself, then bring my tray down when you are finished. Tap lightly at the door and leave the tray. There is no need to shout. There is certainly no need for conversation." She waits for him to acknowledge her instructions before turning back into the room.
Gristav put some parts together. First mentally, then out loud, for Braddon, with wandlike gestures of the overstout stave. "Venison, there. And those berries. Find us a stale loaf, or several such. Fresh is alright, too. We'll make an overmoist pemmican, as a starter! Oh! With a splash of wine, and a glass with the roast! Wait, do we have time, for a roast? Alright, a searing and magic, then..."
"I didn't think you could eat pemmican. I guess they'd taste like ducks. I know it's unlucky to eat albatross. You're not going to magic our food, are you?" Braddon asks suspiciously.
"Am I not pretty enough? Or is food somehow worse than drink? In any case it's never harmed me. Magic's our birthright, Braddon; don't fear it."
She turns to him, deadly serious. "Before the sun is up, I should not be up. But you should get there early before the best pastries have been taken. You fill my plate, feed yourself, then bring my tray down when you are finished. Tap lightly at the door and leave the tray. There is no need to shout. There is certainly no need for conversation." She waits for him to acknowledge her instructions before turning back into the room.
Snake simply stares at the woman stoically a moment before his mouth eventually contorts itself into a... grin? "No wonder the elf boy likes you so much. You are a fiery one." Tipping his hat, "Alright, so, what I've got is: 'Tap lightly, no shouting, and no conversation'. Won't be a problem. Will there be anything else or am I dismissed?" he asks in a joking manner, curious as to the size of the flame this may bring about.
Gristav is able to assemble the various ingredients of his projected meal from the leavings in the market. He can't help but feel that the process was more enjoyable with Samaritha than with Braddon as his companion, however. By the time, the pair have finished their shopping, Riddleport is firmly in twilight, although the Cypherlodge and other buildings in Windward District are still gleaming redly in the rays of the setting sun on the western side of the ridge.
"No wonder the elf boy likes you so much. You are a fiery one." Tipping his hat, "Alright, so, what I've got is: 'Tap lightly, no shouting, and no conversation'. Won't be a problem. Will there be anything else or am I dismissed?" he asks in a joking manner, curious as to the size of the flame this may bring about.
She frowns at the mention of Daynadrian. "Tssch," she hisses to silence him, then glances down the hallway and out onto the floor before gesturing him into her room with a jerk of her head.
"Did you manage to snare Almah at her luncheon?"
"Mm," she nods. "She thinks we can make it work with a heavy enough skirt, but a light summery fabric won't conceal the dagger."
Looking at her through narrowed eyes, he glances down the hall himself before stepping inside. He remains silent, curious as to what's on her mind and feeling like he may already know. Shouldn't of mentioned the elf boy. Dang. She's gonna pepper me with questions about him, I can just feel it.
"Aye, so you must be happy to have the schoolmarm dress then."
She quirks a sardonic eyebrow. "Thrilled," she smirks. "Should I wear it out tonight so I can have my dagger close at hand? Or shall I trust in you to defend me for now and just wear it the whole time you're away and I'm left to my own devices?"
Gristav is able to assemble the various ingredients of his projected meal from the leavings in the market. He can't help but feel that the process was more enjoyable with Samaritha than with Braddon as his companion, however. By the time, the pair have finished their shopping, Riddleport is firmly in twilight, although the Cypherlodge and other buildings in Windward District are still gleaming redly in the rays of the setting sun on the western side of the ridge.
"Let's get this to the kitchen, and I'll make for all a meal such as I'd make for myself, had a doe fallen to my arrow, berries at my feet, and wine... into my pack, I suppose. Enough of a meal, certainly, and civilized by the wine and bread. We'll toast some trenchers, for the pemmican compote... Oh, and pemmican, not pelican. I intend sort of a pate', though a true pemmican is nothing like spreadable..."
"And thank you, for the company. Alone, I'd have pondered darkly, and, perhaps, wandered widely. I may yet do. You'd be welcome, then, too."
"Larur hasn't been seen for a day. I worry about him."
Braddon slaps Gristav heartily on the back.
"He's pretty smart. Smart enough to know the difference between a pemmican and a pelican. And smart enough not to go somewhere dangerous without taking precautions. He'll be grumping his way back soon. If he misses tomorrow night's games, then we're in trouble."
Unable to contain a slight grin, You are a feisty ball of flame, aren't you? I can't even imagine him having the energy to spend time at the whorehouse if he were sleeping with you. "You have my word. I won't hesitate to set 'em straight, darlin'." He nods. "But for what it's worth, seeing how I've barely said two words to the elf, I can tell you he's mentioned nothing about what you two have done about anything as far as that goes." He shrugs. "But now he's got me curious...," he says, his mind wandering on it for a moment. Returning his attention to Thuvalia, there's somewhat of a pause as he looks upon her a moment - a slight temptation to ask more of a personal question but he quickly quashes that notion. "Is there anything else you might be needing?" he decides to simply ask.
Braddon slaps Gristav heartily on the back.
"He's pretty smart. Smart enough to know the difference between a pemmican and a pelican. And smart enough not to go somewhere dangerous without taking precautions. He'll be grumping his way back soon. If he misses tomorrow night's games, then we're in trouble."
"No. Then we'll know, he's in trouble. But not where or why or how permanently. I'm not sure how similar to sane I'll seem, if we're sure of him in crisis. I am sure, all the other things that seem important, only hang on him, for me. If he's gone, that's all I'm doing, is finding what, and where..."
Having completed their shopping, Braddon and Gristav head back to the Gold Goblin through the twilight, joining the foot traffic heading toward the ferry and the lights of Free-Coin District.
"We've the food; we're not racing a sunset anymore. Would you mind the detour to ask the ferryman if he's seen Larur?", Gristav asks Braddon.
"We've the food; we're not racing a sunset anymore. Would you mind the detour to ask the ferryman if he's seen Larur?", Gristav asks Braddon.
"No problem. I didn't think dwarves liked water though. We can ask him about Dayn too."
"Is there anything else you might be needing?"
"Dinner," she states firmly. "Is it to be served upstairs this evening as usual? If so, I'll require notice when it is ready."
Their arms full of their bundles, Braddon and Gristav are more heavily encumbered than most of the pedestrians heading for the ferry, burdened with nothing more than pockets full of coin and heads full of optimistic dreams. They arrive at the riverbank to find the dock already occupied by travelers waiting for the next crossing. Grimas appears already to have turned over his quant for the evening to the staff of young punters who work during the busy nighttime hours.
With a squeeze of Ethel's hand Phil looks to take his leave "I've words to swap with Saul a moment, but shall be ready to take your arm when I return?" letting it end as a question to allow Ethel to make a choice to accompany rather than feel forced.
With that Phil excuses himself and gently closes the door to his room. Cricking his neck and flexing his hands by way of mental segue from pleasure to business... he begins to stalk through the halls of the Goblin towards Saul's office.
He stops just as he gets to the door, listening for any sound outside. If he hears anything, he waits until it passes before opening the door and taking his leave, heading toward his own room.
Their arms full of their bundles, Braddon and Gristav are more heavily encumbered than most of the pedestrians heading for the ferry, burdened with nothing more than pockets full of coin and heads full of optimistic dreams. They arrive at the riverbank to find the dock already occupied by travelers waiting for the next crossing. Grimas appears already to have turned over his quant for the evening to the staff of young punters who work during the busy nighttime hours.
Looking at the young punters as if at an empty vine, Gristav waxes dutiful over worriful, and strides longer, ahead of Braddon, necessitating the bearded half-elf raise his voice a bit as he spoke half over his shoulder to his companion...
"...shame we're too busy this evening, to make the trip across. Can't wait 'til that new place, the Gold Goblin, is open. No standing in line for a ferry, and there's dancing girls, I hear..."
Ahead of the prettier peredhel, Gristav sets their course more Goblinward, raising his gambit another coin, and his voice another step, turning in the wrong direction to locate Braddon, while adding, "Can't beat close to home!"
Faux-finding his friend, the beardedhel smiles, and nods, and makes decidedly for the Goblin.
Phillip exits his room, closing the door behind him to give Ethel privacy in which to change, and heads to the kitchen and, thence, the stairs. He notes that a path has been cleared through the displaced furniture and that the dancing practice is completed; the double doors are closed and barred, and the floor is empty, as is the kitchen when he reaches it. As he climbs the stairs, he perceives the first signs of life: the murmur of voices from the owner's suite.
He approaches the light spilling through the open door and sees Saul and Tendal seated in the waiting room, Bojasc standing towering over his employer's shoulder.
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Gristav's pronouncement draws a few glances of interest from the waiting passengers, particularly at the promise of dancing girls. Turning away from the dock, he and Braddon retrace their last score of steps to achieve the alley leading to the Gold Goblin's kitchen door.
Phillip steps into the door to the waiting room and holds until Saul turns to acknowledge him. After a nod of muted greeting to both he and Magnimar the halfling asks "Did you manage to see about the drinks vouchers with Covey?"
Gristav's pronouncement draws a few glances of interest from the waiting passengers, particularly at the promise of dancing girls. Turning away from the dock, he and Braddon retrace their last score of steps to achieve the alley leading to the Gold Goblin's kitchen door.
"How helpful were you hopeful of being?", Gristav asks Braddon, starting at the kitchen pump to begin with fresh ice to chill the wine and cream. "There's meat to be sliced and mole'ed, or magicked.", Gristav says, punctuating the last word with a piercing polar pulse that pops a puck of ice from a poor well-abused muffin tin. "A stove needing a fire within, and a skillet with butter or oil, without. Bread sliced as thin as... well, set the knife handle flat, and cut the slices as if against the table, that's a guide. Oh yes, butter to start in the skillet, we'll toast the bread first. Then oil, some seasonings, and venison steaks..."
Gristav lays out an entire plan, from toast rounds with venison-berry pemmican au vin, on to pan-seared venison steaks, to berries chilled with cream, the whole with water or wines selected to suit.
Absorbed in the plan and its execution, it's long minutes before Gristav observes in melancholic tones, "Not so much fun, without Sam. No offense. I'm sure you understand."
"Sam was something. Maybe she'll invite us round for dinner."
Braddon sets about chopping and slicing and while indelicate he proves effective.
As Snake makes his way to his room, he pauses before pulling out his key and looks up, a uncertain look about him. "What in the Nine Hells was the point of all that?" he asks himself, completely confused about his actions. Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all, he opens the door and walks in.
"Alright, Luck, off you go. Don't need you at dinner." He shoos him and watches the mongoose leap off and make himself a nest on one of the pillows. He removes his gear, his trench coat, and his hat and decides to partake of a more 'relaxed' look for once as he moves over to the mirror. "May not need you at dinner but keep close anyway, Luck - you just never know," he tells him as he pops his shirt a few times for some air and then fixes his hair by pulling it back tight and redoing his ponytail. Once done, "C'mon, Luck," he opens the door and waits until Lucky makes his way out before shutting and locking it. Taking a deep breath, he heads to the kitchen to see about dinner.
"Sam was something. Maybe she'll invite us round for dinner."Braddon sets about chopping and slicing and while indelicate he proves effective.
"Hopeful, but unlikely. Sam's house is less hers to have home and host of heart than this one is ours. We've better hope of having her back to a dinner, here." Noticing Braddon's determined and dutiful indelicacy, Gristav offers, "Here, make the mole'... We'll teach you magick, yet, venison to mole', and mole' to pemmican.", Gristav jests.
After a nod of muted greeting to both he and Magnimar the halfling asks "Did you manage to see about the drinks vouchers with Covey?"
"Hmm?" Saul frowns a moment, then his brow clears as he remembers. "Oh, aye, they're in my office." He gets to his feet and walks around the end of the settee, where Bojasc joins him protectively.