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He's normally early to rise, but today he's dragging. There's nothing to do. The Gallows are closed off to him, something about a quarantine despite the one elf telling him he was a welcome guest, and he's bristly and bored and feeling fairly sorry for himself by the time he gets to the kitchens. Thor peers in, scratching his bare chest as he'd only bothered with pants so far.

"Do you cook? I would like something with which to break my fast." These lands are cold, they're grey, they're backward, and he has absolutely no task to set his hands and mind to.

Edited 2018-01-28 10:06 (UTC)

She can't be working all the time, and some time when she isn't working, and is out somewhere that wouldn't require breaking and entering, Théo drops down to sit beside her with minimal warning. If they are not fully friends, so much as two people who were repeatedly in the same wrong places at the same wrong times, Fifi is still the most familiar face in this damned city, and that's worth half an apple.

—which is to say, he cuts an apple in half and offers her one side.

"The apples were better in Orlais," he says. "I found a worm in one yesterday—I think it was possessed, the worm. Or perhaps a blood mage in disguise." If this weren't already a patently ridiculous statement, his smile and the careless way he crunches into the half he's keeping would hopefully clear up any concern. Before his mouthful of apple is chewed up to the point of being rude, he adds around it, "Chew carefully."

Fifi, I have an...unusual request for you.

[ Uh oh. ]

I was, ah. Investigating the Asgard household during the party, but was unfortunately compromised in the middle of it. I'm fine, but I had to hide some of the evidence I'd collected. I'm hoping you'll be able to acquire it for me.

Alexandrie is soaking off the sweat of the previous evening's (and morning's) exertions happily, her hair piled on top of her head and her eyes half-closed in the persistent heat of the water. Magic is ever so civilized. She is extending one pale leg up from the water to wiggle her toes for her own idle amusement when someone quietly comes in, their hands full of folded linens.

"Just put those—" she begins in Tevene, cutting off when she registers the servant as someone more specific than just 'an elf', her jaw dropping and then turning quickly into a wide grin, switching into bright excited Orlesian as she quickly returns her leg to the water with a small splash and folds her elbows over the edge of the tub closest Fifi to rest her chin on them.

"The Vixen of Val Royeaux!" she exclaims delightedly, "However did you end up here?"

Mlle. Mariette,

[ how old is she, he can never tell with elves. is she married. whatever. ]

I trust you weren't caught in that bit of trouble at the Gallows.

[ of course she wasn't. because for some reason, the inquisition is continuing to furnish a live-in maid with a crystal. a live-in maid to its supposed allies — who haven't, that he's seen, been particularly helpful. ]

Fifi—

[ out of nowhere, in the evening ]

—I need to hear music.

Is Isaac supposed to be in this office?

Probably not. Don't worry about it — and anyway, it's not as though he's in it (head and arm poked around the door like a lazy cat), or at least not in it alone.

"Mlle. Mariette," Better not to notice a lady's age. "I've had the most fascinating news."

Noon is perfectly aware of how large he is, so he makes sure to make a little more noise than he usually would when he spots the maid he's looking for.

"Mornin', Miss," he says, tongue never taking much liking to Orlesian titles. He's carrying an old book as if it were made of glass. "Boss found somethin' on the Fen'Harel fellow you were asking about."

Madame Mariette. I'd like your assistance gathering some information.

Vanadi is headed for the kitchen today for -- well, he hasn't decided yet. For whatever is available to work with, probably. That's what brings him to a distracted pause in the doorway, startled for no good reason to find himself not quite alone in there. It's ... well, he doesn't know her name, actually. He's seen her about, and that's the extent of what he can say.

A bit embarrassing, if he stops and considers it.

He clears his throat to announce himself, and finishes his entrance with a faint smile.

"Ah, good morning." Afternoon, really. He always did sleep late. "I'm not in your way if I work over in a corner, am I?"

[ In Orlesian, indefinitely: ] Are you still in touch with anyone in Val Royeaux, Fifi?

[ Orlesian. Obviously. ]

Fifi, my gazelle. Can I bother you to visit me in Lowtown sometime this week? I have some friends who want to meet you.

Mlle. Mariette,

[ a few years past that particular address, but whatever ]

How has the leg been treating you?

[ Approaching while she's busy with some maid-y thing or another in an otherwise deserted room, Bastien says brightly: ]

You are a treacherous snake.

Action

action.

[crystal] this is pretty backdated, sry

action; some time between the poor decision to start sleeping over and tevinter

crystals;

crystal.

at some point in time when not everyone's dying on a mission

Action

Crystal, a day or so post-dream

no subject

crystal.

crystal. vaguely backdated? idk.

crystals;

action.