[Knights Rest Inn / Cally's] Not At All Awkward

[Vega]

50th Trial of Zi'da,
Arc 716

"If you laugh, I'm never gonna forgive you." She said, from inside the bathroom off the side of their room.

They had agreed that they were going to go on a date. Just the two of them and the trial before she'd been gone more or less all trial. When she came back, her hair was washed and brushed and had obviously had some sort of treatment on it, since it didn't descend into crazy curls within a half break, which was much more the usual. She'd brought back a lot of bags, which contained parcels, each one wrapped up in paper so that he didn't see them. All of them, she'd brought with her when they arrived here earlier in the trial, and she'd worn a clean dress to the place, because she figured it was posh and so she should. When they'd arrived Vega had done her best to hide her amazement at the room but, once Whit had left, she assured Arlo that she had never seen anything like it. A huge bath, in an en-suite room next to the biggest bed she had ever seen. Those two things had distracted her for quite a while.

The amount of time Vega could spend in the bath was well known between them and, now that there was an en-suite and someone to share it with, that time had extended. It was a good job that they'd arrived early, she'd pointed out with a grin. However, a good three breaks before they were due to leave, she'd said she needed to get ready and had gone into the bathroom with her bags and not, as yet, come out. There had been the odd strange noise, muttering and grumbling, what sounded almost like a scuffle, quite a bit of cursing and at one point an "OW!" following quite a loud ping noise and then a stream of Rakahi.

"I went to the dressmakers, yestertrial," she was still actually in the bathroom and didn't seem inclined towards coming out. "An' they asked me about necklines, an' hems an' sleeves. An' they called me madam. They were all, 'would madam like a long or short hem?', an' I was like, I dunno, would she? Took me ten bits to work out they were talkin' to me, about me." She was shoving things into a bag, tidying around judging by the noises. "So, they told me about this place. Petyr's Pots an' Potions. His wife, Callie, she does like, make up an' stuff, and she 'elped me. We went an' got a dress an' shoes an' well.. it looked better when she 'elped me." Right, well this was getting stupid, Vega thought and stepped out. She was wearing a deep beige dress, strapless and knee length, tightly belted and made from satin. Over it there was the chiffon skirt which fell in swathes over her legs, covering them but also, not entirely as the chiffon was still slightly opaque. Her hair was piled up in a simple but pretty style and she had very subtle make up on. "I've got a shawl, too, so, you know. Cover my shoulders. It's pretty." More than anything, she didn't want to embarrass him, although she'd told Callie that she wanted him to go bug-eyed at the sight of her.

Then, she stuck out her foot. "Look! I got heels on, an' stockings. I didn't even know what they were. You look great." She smiled at him and her eyes were an unusual mixture of light mint green and deep purple and her expression about as unsure as it had been that night on Immortals Tongue when she'd told him she was nervous. "I could kill someone with these heels. Which is a good job, cos Callie said I can't carry a sword. I don't see why not, but there you go. Shall we go, then? I mean, if this is alright for the place we're going? An', if it is, you know I'm gonna freeze my chops off, can I 'ave yer chicken leg?"

[Arlo Creede]

Though he'd never been out on a proper one before, Arlo hadn't begun to imagine that there'd be so much preparing to be done in advance. Not by him necessarily, he'd only really needed to get a new suit put together. But for Vega? She'd been gone all trial, from morning to sunset. He'd been to town and gone back to camp again. Had gone hunting for game hens, come home, cleaned and quartered them, set them on to cook low and slow, swung his sword a little at a makeshift dummy he'd set up, practiced his gittern, read a little and napped a little bit more before she'd come back. He'd been full of questions and she hadn't answered a one of them, and had warned him off digging through the packages she'd brought back with her. Women. Go figure.

He had a bag of his own. But just one and his hunt for proper attire had been an easy affair. Truth was, he already had a fancy suit. It was the one that he'd been given to wear at the party he'd attended at the the strange tower, and had been told to keep it. But it was covered with too much frippery for the occasion, he'd decided. Though the boots that he'd only worn that one evening worked just fine. It appeared though that all that time she'd spent shopping and doing mysterious things with her hair was only the beginning. Good thing he'd taken along his gittern and something to read, when she'd barricaded herself in the bathroom once they'd enjoyed a long soak together. She'd barely allowed him the time to shave off the scruff he'd been growing lately before tossing him out and barring the door.

It was just him and Lyova then, out in a room that raised comfort and luxury to a whole new level. At least much more than what Arlo was accustomed to. He'd made sure to book the best and largest style of room they had available. If they were going to do a date, then he was determined to do it up right. Only the best for Vega. "What are you doing in there?" he'd called out more than once, just to make sure she was still conscious in there. Especially with all the knocking around and the strings of curses. Arlo had even asked Lyova to slip through the keyhole to have a look for him and report back. The little diri had flatly refused though, and there appeared to be some unspoken pact between females of all varieties.

It was a good break or more before he'd even pulled out the suit that he'd stored in the wardrobe after they'd gotten to their room. And it just took a quarter or less to put it on. In spite of the fact that he could count the times he'd gone formal on just one hand with several fingers left over, the suit was comfortable and he figured he looked alright. The long wool coat, a pea coat the tailor had called it was a gemstone-like cyan color with a darker velvet collar. Not that Arlo knew cyan from his left foot. Green, apparently. The wool trousers were a darker shade of the same color, the vest was darker round the bottom and lighter round the upper part with some transitioning in between. And the cotton shirt was comfortable and cream colored. The boots were black and had been worn just often enough to be comfortable.

It had been some time even since getting dressed himself, and Arlo had managed to drift off in a chair in the corner by the time Vega began talking to him through the door. He woke with a start, and then frowned as she went on. Some of the things she talked about were a mystery, but nonetheless he insisted that she was beautiful all on her own. He couldn't imagine anything that would make her more beautiful. But when she finally came out and he'd climbed to his feet? He was struck dumb when he saw her. After a long few trills, he managed..."Wow."

"You look beautiful," he said. It was more than that, but Arlo suspected there wasn't a proper word. If there were any other women at Cally's, Vega was going to put them to shame, he told her and meant every word. If there were other men, he might have to fight them off before the night was done. It took a trill then to comprehend when she mentioned the chicken leg, but smiling belatedly, he fished the thing out of his bag and handed it to her. He couldn't imagine where she was going to hide that thing, but looked forward to hunting for it later, once they'd come back to their room.

He was ready though, he told her. He'd even reserved a table though he wasn't sure it had been necessary. But he'd wanted to make sure she got the best seating available. So grinning at her, he offered his arm so they could leave the inn and walk the short distance to Cally's. The better question, he insisted, was whether Cally's was good enough for her.

Off Topic

Suit - 28.84 gn
Room - 2gn

[Vega]

50th Trial of Zi'da,
Arc 716

"I'm gettin' ready!" She had yelled back, once, when he'd called in to her. "Ow! Arlo, go away, I poked myself in the eye 'cos of you!" That was both the most coherent and polite answer he got. Then, just as she was getting herself worked up to stepping out, he said he couldn't imagine anything that would make her more beautiful? "Well, that's bloody great that is." Her voice sounded both amused and aggravated. "Three breaks I've been in 'ere an' contorted myself into all sorts of positions. It'd better bloody do somethin!" Still, she couldn't put it off any more and so she'd stepped out.

And he went, in Vega-speak, bug-eyed.

Vega's eyes flooded green and gold and she smiled, almost shyly. The look on his face alone more than made up for the time spent getting ready. When he said that she'd outshine any other women there, Vega snorted slightly, but at him fighting off men she shook her head, determinedly. It was when he commented about the chicken leg that the redhead let out a guffaw of laughter. "You behave yerself. We've got to be posh an' proper. An' any'ow, I'm squeezed that tight into these undergarments, you couldn't fit a trickle of water in em, never mind a chicken leg" Taking the wooden chicken-sized peg leg, Vega shook her head. "I'm gonna 'old it in my 'and all the way there, then give it to you to keep in yer pocket." Pulling the deep gold shawl over her shoulders, she picked up the chicken leg and then grinned in delight as he offered her his arm. "Thank Xiur for that. I might break my ankle on these shoes."

Walking together was nice and she held on to his arm in a way she normally wouldn't. It stopped her wobbling, she said, which was a lie and they both knew it as she held tight to him. "It looks well expensive. We can go somewhere cheaper, you know," she said as they arrived. A glance at his face when she said that told her that she'd said the wrong thing and she stopped walking for a few trill. "It looks lovely, an' I'm dead excited. Which probably means I'm gonna say stupid stuff like that more than normal. Ignore me."

The table they got led to, once they were in there, was indeed the best table in the house. He was, after all, one of them and the boss' friend besides. Next to a wrap-around window, they had stunning views of the water and the stars glimmering above it. It was rare for Vega to be so quiet, but she was looking around wide eyed. She'd never been anywhere remotely like this before, and her gaze showed it. More than one of the male customers watched them as they were shown to their table but she genuinely didn't notice. Once they were seated, though, and left alone for a few moments with the wine menu, she looked at him and her smile was beaming. "It's beautiful. I've never seen anythin' like it. Do you wanna order for us both?"

He knew what she liked and didn't like to eat, for one, and of course he knew that the menu was of no use to her anyhow. On that note, Vega spoke more seriously. "Arlo, there was somethin' I wanted to ask you," she said, her voice purposely quiet. "An' I want you to say no if it'll upset you or anythin', ok?" She meant it, she said, because she'd know and she didn't want to upset him, but more than that, what she wanted to ask was important, and she'd rather wait until it didn't upset him, if it might. When they were in Desnind, her aunt had given her her mother's journals. He knew that, of course, and he knew the hours that she had spent alone in her tent with them, looking at the words, the small pictures, trying to glean any information she could. "Would you read them to me?" There was no one else she'd ask, she explained. No one else she trusted to, so if he wanted to wait then that was fine, as long as he needed.

"An' Arlo?" Vega asked, rather out of the blue for the seriousness of the conversation. "I mean... 'ow come there's so many knives an' forks?"

Off Topic

The npcs are all yours!

[Arlo Creede]

Arlo would have given just about anything to find out what was going on behind that door. Vega might've clocked him one though if he'd tried to get in. And it was probably something he wasn't meant to see anyway. Part of the mystique, he guessed. And when she'd eventually come out, well, it had been and was well worth the wait. He'd even gotten a bit of a nap in while he'd waited.

"Posh and proper," he said and snorted when she said it. "Yeah, that's us. Head to toe." Although he guessed they did look the part. Her, to a much greater extent than him. He figured he must be the luckiest man in Scalvoris, or in fact any number of places at once. They walked slower than their usual once they'd headed out for Cally's. Partly because Arlo wanted to show her off, and partly because he was aware that the shoes weren't her norm, and if they were to stumble across a divot in the pavement it might prove to be disastrous.

The place was expensive, she was right. In truth she had no idea but when she suggested they could have gone anywhere else, she was right, his expression was enough to tell her he wouldn't have had it. Up to then, Arlo hadn't been sure which of the staff would be waiting on them that evening, but as it happened, it was Paul rather than Trudi. If he'd been asked when he'd first arranged things, he might have said it was better that way. But now? It could have as easily been Trudi as anyone else. He only had eyes for Vega. "Good evening sir...miss," Paul said and led them to the table that Arlo had arranged for just the trial before.

It wasn't lost on him either, all of those eyes on Vega. Male ones in particular. He merely smiled as they went, feeling a mix of proud and territorial. "It's nice, isn't it?" he agreed, and took it upon himself to pull out her chair. And when he sat down across from her, Arlo smiled and shook his head. "I already have." Order for them, he meant. "I arranged it in advance. I hope you don't mind." The Diamond Dining Experience. For two. He'd arranged it a trial ahead and soon enough, the first course and their drinks ought to arrive. But it was Paul first who filled their water glasses and made himself scarce.

What could she possibly say or ask that would upset him, he wondered aloud? In this setting, Arlo meant. When they were scrapping one with the other, they seemed to have a knack for saying the wrong thing. Or maybe it was just him. "Whatever it is, ask," he told her. It was the journals, she said. The ones she'd got hold of in Desnind, that she'd been carrying with her since then, and he smiled and shook his head.

"Why would that upset me? Of course I will." In fact, it meant a lot that she'd ask him. Those journals were personal after all. As for the forks and knives, he grinned. Just a few trials ago, he wouldn't have known the reason either. "Just start with the ones on the outside as each course arrives, and work in towards the middle," he explained, just above a whisper.

Off Topic

Dinner - 100 gn

[Vega]

50th Trial of Zi'da,
Arc 716

She smiled in greeting to the waiter, but didn't say anything. Drinking in the sights and smells and sounds of the place as they were shown to their table, her eyes showed her amazement at the place. Once they were seated, and the waiter had left them alone, she put her hand out and took his. "You did?" She shook her head no, of course she didn't mind. "That's great. Thank you. Where do you sit when you're workin'?" It must be quite an amazing place to work at, Vega was more than slightly entranced. "Everythin's matchin'," she whispered and then grinned to him. "Remember how impressed I was that you found three matchin' plates first time you met my Papa?" How many matching plates were here she wondered. And then there was the silverware. Start at the outside and work in to the middle? That seemed straightforward enough. "That's like... six courses?" What had he ordered, she wondered aloud.

"Thank you." Her emotions were evident when he said that he would read her mother's journals to her. It meant more than she could easily, or eloquently put into words, so thanks would have to do. It would, she knew. Their entrance drinks were put down, fizzy wine with the "Scalvoris fruit caviar", small spheres which exploded with different fruit flavours, each one. Vega raised her glass and smiled her delight. "To fallin' in love with yer very best friend, an' realisin' they feel jus' the same way." She was about to clink her glass against his, but her eyes took a more wicked glint. "An' then? Wow. Jus', wow." Then she did clink her glass and took a sip of the wine first, which made her chuckle as the bubbles went up her nose. When she tried the caviar though, Vega's face showed her delight and she let out a squeal of amazement, then glanced around and blushed, just a little. Not something Vega did often. "Sorry," she said, really not wanting to embarrass him, here of all places. Still, she had to ask. "Wow. How do they do that?"

As they sipped their drinks, Vega looked out to the ocean and her expression was one he'd seen many times when looking out at the sea. "D'ya ever think maybe we should buy ourselves a boat an' jus' always be in our own space, no matter whether we're on land or sea?" They could lay on the deck together, not get cooped up in a cabin every time they moved between places, she said, and wouldn't have to eat other people's cooking. "I could make nice big stalls for Peg an' Storm, an' we could 'ave a really big, really really big bed. An' a bath." Shaking her head, she grinned and pulled her eyes away from the scenery. "Sorry, got carried away in the moment there. That'd be a big expense, an' it's a commitment too, cos it'd be ours. An you probably don't... do you wanna?" Vega was just about to assume that he didn't want to do that, but then she stopped herself.They were both in this for the long term, she knew that, and it wasn't like she was proposing.

The first course arrived, at the most inopportune moment. It turned out to be light seafish soup with a spoon on the plate on which the bowl sat already, so that made seven courses all told, by Vega's counting of the cutlery. She waited, watching how he did things, making sure that she didn't do something truly ill mannered without meaning to. Slow and careful, she had already decided that was how she was going to be doing this meal. As she tasted it, though, Vega couldn't stop herself. "U'frek's butt, Arlo, that's some good soup!" Undoubtedly, other people in the restaurant heard her, she'd forgotten to whisper. "Sorry," she whispered and added, very very quietly. "but U'frek's butt is righ'. That's good soup."

[Arlo Creede]

"While I'm actually working, I sit over there," Arlo said, tilting his head towards a spot where there'd be a stool, was this one of those nights. "And that table in the corner is where I go when I'm taking a break. Or I go outdoors for a while." Which was more usual for him, even with the plummeting temperatures this time of the arc. He'd always preferred the outdoors to being cooped up too long in one stretch. Arlo couldn't imagine that would ever change. At least not much. Now though it was neither here nor there. He was enjoying watching Vega too much to focus on things like that. Judging by her reaction to their surroundings, it was worth every bit that he'd spent arranging the evening, and worth every copper.

But those three matching plates, "It's not exactly fancy eating, those plates," he said, grinned and shook his head. Then again, if he tried to keep the sort of things on the road that were here on the table, they'd have very little left but broken china and shattered crystal. He raised his glass to hers, grinned again at the suggestive addition to her toast, and added, "To the prettiest girl on Idalos." He thanked her too for agreeing to coming out on a date. Arlo had known that she'd been unnerved by the idea after all. Those bits in the wine, the fruit caviar, he'd seen them before. Even had them. And yet they remained a wonder each time he stumbled across them.

Of course her squeal caused a few heads to turn their way. But Arlo didn't mind, in fact it meant to him that others would see how lucky he was. "I think there's a little science at work there. Alchemy I think," he explained, figuring that Faith's husband might have something to do with it. He had no serious interest in pursuing any of the sciences himself. But he wouldn't mind, he told Vega, learning how to make some of those himself. Following her gaze out the window though, to the sea, what Vega said next took him by surprise. But then thinking about it, really thinking about it, why should it? "A boat? You mean a big one?" he asked.

His expression while he thought of it, was one of intense interest. Traveling was traveling, on land or sea. And as he understood it, Cassion did a great deal of his traveling by boat. "You know, each time we travel from one place to another, we're needing to book passage on somebody else's ship," he said as the first course was set down in front of him, and he thanked Paul before the waiter was off again. As a result, they were forced to abide by somebody else's schedule, get off the ship wherever the captain decided to sail into port, and not where they'd rather drop anchor, the two of them. The privacy they got was restricted to the size of their room, and their time out on deck was dictated by others.

"You know, I've been doing a lot of reading lately about navigation. Not just on land with a compass, but navigating on the sea as well, by the suns, the stars and the moons. But if it was a boat of any measurable size, enough to bring the horses along, it would require more than just you and me to do it," he pointed out. On the other hand, it was a large expense. But how much did they really need to take care of the very few expenses they had? "It would be costly," he agreed. "But I've got some money set aside and nothing to spend it on. Would be a good investment, I figure. Let's get a boat," he said, in response to Vega's question.

It was good soup, no denying. And he figured he probably knew who'd personally prepared it. The better he got at cooking on his own, the better he became at picking up the little nuances to the extent that he'd realize the level of another cook's skill, even when there was an identical recipe in play. He laughed though at Vega's exclamation, but otherwise ignored any eyes that might be turning their way. "I agree, but there's more on the way. This is just the start of it," he told her.

[Vega]

50th Trial of Zi'da,
Arc 716

When he described where he sat, what he did when he was on a break, Vega looked around in interest. It was hard to imagine him here, really, but telling stories, sharing them over food was what he did. It Even if it wasn't food he'd cooked, as jobs went this one suited him for now, while they were here. They'd be here the winter through, just as they'd been in Desnind last arc, so it made sense for them to work. Turning to look at him, her eyes showed her delight at the place, at where they were and what they were doing. It was different and unusual and fun. It wouldn't be for either of them to do it very often, but as experiences went, it certainly was one.

She chuckled, though when he commented that the plates weren't fancy eating. "It depends on yer starting point, doesn't it?" But his toast caused a grin to cross her face, "you know her, do you?" Would they ever not torment each other? Vega honestly hoped not. When he thanked her for coming out with him, though, she looked at him more seriously. "Sometimes, you're a right pillock, you know. It's a new experience, an' I love just how thoughtful you are, 'ow nice this all is. I jus' don't fit in, not in places like this, an I didn't want to embarrass you is all. I still don't, an' the night's young, so keep an eye out." There was still plenty of time, after all. The ocean drew her gaze, though, and she spoke about a boat. He seemed interested, which surprised her a little,but then why it would Vega didn't know.

"Yeah, I was thinkin' maybe a schooner," she explained. He spoke about how they had to work to other people's timescales, ideas of where they stopped and when and Vega nodded. "It's true. It's restricin'. If we had our own, we could be free to come an' go as we please." It wouldn't mean that they stayed on the boat all the time, they could moor it and go be on land as they were now, with their camp. It was just more of a camp on water, as Vega saw it. When he said about having read about navigation, and the boat needing to be crewed by more than them, Vega thought about it. "I dunno, Arlo. A schooner can be crewed with two people, theoretically. I mean, it's 'ard word. An' that's good, that you've been learnin' navigation, cos my Papa has been teaching me sailing, properly. Now that I'm not sick any more." She grinned at him when he said he had money set aside and nothing to spend it on. "Really? Half each, though, yeah? I don't want any of the kind of, I asked you on the date, I've gotta pay arguments, cos if we 'ave them, I suggested the boat, so I've gotta pay."

When she exclaimed aloud about the soup, Arlo laughed and Vega looked a little surprised. The last thing she wanted to do was to shame him, but he didn't seem to mind that she'd done just that. As for the crew, she came back to it once they'd finished their soup, she kept her head down for the rest of the eating of that, so she didn't show him or her up. However, after the waiter had taken the soup away, and she smiled at him in thanks, she turned back to Arlo, quick to take his hand across the table. "Papa gave his boat to the twins, Huw refused it." Shrugging slightly, not sure how he'd feel about even the suggestion, Vega spoke quietly, "We could see if they wanna come with us. I don't know what their plans are, it might be to go with the twins, I dunno. I think Papa would like it, but that'd be like livin' with your in-laws, Arlo. An' if you don't want me to make the offer, I won't. Not for a trill."

Thinking about it, in the time between the empty plates being taken and the next course being brought, Vega had to admit that she liked the idea more and more. "I mean, we can explore, like we do on land. An' have hammocks, up on the deck. If it's a schooner we go for, there's room for a few people to live an' not live in each other's pockets, we can divide up below deck an' 'ave our own space." If her father and her cousin came along, that was. It would be better, there was no doubt, if there were more people crewing than just the two of them. But they could manage it if needs be, she had no doubt. "So, Arlo Creede," she said, with a smile, "where shall we sail to in our boat, then?" She knew the answer, of course, anywhere they wanted. "An' come to that, with a dark season left 'ere, seein' in the new arc, what shall we explore here next?" There was that tower, she reminded him, or there were those mountains. Different little villages, too, dotted over the place. Vega was willing to bet that there was all sorts of weirdness going on. "We could get the boat soon, an' start making the adjustments. An' we could sail round the coast of Scalvoris, chasin' that funny sand, findin' out all the different colours an' what it does?" But only, she was quick to add, once they'd both thought about it, and agreed it was definitely what they wanted.

[Arlo Creede]

Vega was right in thinking that for Arlo, when it came to telling stories, this wasn't the usual sort of place he did it. Apart from earning a few extra nels though, the unconventional setting was actually part of the appeal. He was comfortable telling tales by firelight or on the road and not nearly as much in a formal setting. But there were people, the type who dined at Cally's for instance, who might never have heard them otherwise. They weren't the kind of people who shared campfires with strangers, or got out of their carriages along the way to speak with them. It broadened the type of experience he had, working here. It expanded his collection of stories. And it was good experience.

"In some ways I know her better than anyone else," he declared. The prettiest girl on Idalos he meant. Arlo grinned when he said it, choosing not to elaborate on the many ways, or how he knew who as no one else did. If she told him that it only took two to crew a schooner, he believed her. She'd have much better reason for knowing than him.

He still thought it might be better though if there was one or even two more available sets of hands. There were best case scenarios after all and the worst ones to consider. He'd never shied away from hard work though. Half though? He didn't know exactly what it would take to purchase a schooner, and whether it would come fully equipped or whether they'd need to purchase any number of things. He only had so much set aside.

"Alright. Half and half," he agreed. "Partners." Her father had given the twins his boat? Taking her hands in his across the table, he wondered just how that had come to pass, but didn't ask. It wasn't the important thing though. And no, he wouldn't mind at all. "I think maybe you should ask them. Of course I wouldn't mind. Besides, they have the experience, we know them. And a schooner is plenty big," he argued with a smile, referring to having their privacy when they wanted it. Then came another course, another drink, and Arlo thanked Paul while considering all the possibilities their own boat would bring with it.

Of course they could sail anywhere on Idalos that they wanted. There'd be no one to tell them different after all. Until then, he agreed. "I think you're right. We ought to do it as soon as we can, and take a season then to outfit it, try it out...Like you say, sail round the coast of Scalvoris, see what there is to see." Picking up his glass then and raising it to her across the table, he added perhaps the obvious. "To setting our own course then."

[Vega]

50th Trial of Zi'da,
Arc 716

When it came to the idea of the schooner, Vega was delighted at the prospect. The more she thought about it, the more she considered how much fun it would be, the two of them. They could be captains of their own fate, determining where they went, and when they went there. That had to be good. He was happy with her father and Huw joining them, if they wanted to, which pleased Vega on all sorts of levels so when he said that they should and she should ask them, she nodded eagerly. As for partners, she grinned at that and was pleased, there was no doubting it. "We can jus' chuck our money in together, I don't care about who pays 'ow much. Far as I'm concerned, it's all ours, so it's fine." Her eyes showed her amusement as she added, "I jus' wanted to make sure that I'm not changin' my status to trinket. Sounds well dull." Not to mention almost certainly impossible for Vega to maintain.

As the next course came, Arlo might notice the elderly couple opposite him, sitting at the table next to theirs which meant that Vega had her back to them. The couple in question were dressed in a rather... eccentric fashion. His hat was something to be seen, with a large feather sweeping backwards. His high ruffed collar and frilled sleeves made him look rather like an aged dandy - although it was beautiful and intricate, the clothing seemed out of place. So too did hers, very formal much more suited to a ballroom and very old fashioned. Paul put the second dish down, Vega smiled her thanks and Arlo might notice that the elderly couple were pointing and looking at, well, them. Or more precisely, him. When he looked up and caught their gaze, the woman waved at him and pointed, waggling her finger around in a most strange fashion.

"Arlo, you've got to be kiddin' me? 'Ow in the name of all wots in the sky and the sea do you make this?" It was a light fish dish, individual servings in a thin batter, served with thin bread slices and a selection of preserves to accompany it. "I mean, like.. I 'ave genuinely tasted nothin' like this eve...why are you doin' that with yer finger?" Vega asked, motioning to his left hand and the finger with the permanently black fingernail which currently had what looked like a single candle flame flickering out of it.

"Arlo, stop it," Vega said and looked at him with a frown, then looked around, to see if anyone could see them. She looked straight past the elderly couple, apparently not even noticing their behaviour, which was odd because it was very obvious. "This is a posh place, where they probably don't like it if you 'ave flames comin' out yer finger." Maybe he should extinguish it in his glass of water, her glance seemed to say. "An' come to that, 'ow come you 'aven't set the tablecloth on fire?" Without pausing to ask for permission, Vega grabbed his hand and moved her hand over the offending digit. "That's clever, it's not even 'ot. Still, though, stop it." The elderly couple watched the exchange and seemed, all in all, rather entranced with the young pair.

Glowing, flame-covered finger and all.

[Arlo Creede]

"What's mine is yours, yours is mine and all that," Arlo said, draining the last of the most recent glass that Paul had brought him. Six courses, six drinks. It was a recipe for stumbling out of the place, holding each other upright best they could if they weren't careful, he thought. "And hardly that," he shot back with a grin when she referenced the unlikely event that she'd become some sort of trinket. "Those sorts of things are seen but not heard. They hardly ever have opinions, they never disagree and if they ever think it, they still never say it." Which meant that from head to toe, Vega would never enjoy trinket status. Just as well. Arlo would hate it.

He already knew that Vega would be impressed with the next course. He'd had the fish before and expected it to be just as good as it was the last time he'd had it. But while she was savoring it, he found himself more than distracted by the elderly couple that had sat down nearby them. Why hadn't he noticed them before, he wondered? They weren't exactly a pair that blended in, after all. Out of place and out of time yet at the same time, in them both. Eccentric, he finally decided. Interesting and colorful. Daring to be different.

And why were they whispering and staring at him? Confounded, Arlo still did the polite thing and smiled in return. He only half heard what Vega was saying about the fish when the woman, of all the strange things do, waggled a finger at him. Was it a local tradition of some sort? It was Scalvoris after all and he lifted a hand to return the gesture in kind when Vega's voice broke through the distraction. "What? What about my fin..." he said, confounded, frowning and taking a look at the digit himself. On first, surprised impulse, he shook his hand, blew on it, and when all else failed sipped his finger into his water glass. All to no effect.

"I don't know. I can't," he insisted to Vega. Stop it, he meant. He only knew that it was the same finger that had earned a dark nail that had stayed that way after he'd been swallowed up by the fog. Then he looked back at the old couple, looking back at him and remembered the woman's gesture. "It's them," he whispered to Vega, cutting his eyes in a gesture towards the couple behind her. "I don't know how or why, but it's them, and I can't stop it."