|.91st Summer / 1st Autumn, 514
"Oh, come on," Zhol enticed, drawing upon every ounce of flirt and charm that he could muster, his most winning and disarming smile aimed squarely at the woman in front of him. Had she been plated up in the Communal Kitchens as a meal, Zhol might have suspected that she was yesterday's spoilt leftovers, but that didn't hinder him from pulling out all the stops to curry her favour. "We both know the kitchens bake too many. Who would you rather give the leftovers to: me, the rats, or the Dek?"
A subtle shift of his shoulders widened the plunging neckline of his shirt. It wasn't intended to be quite so revealing, but wear and tear had taken their toll on his work clothes. He hadn't quite mustered the courage to go full Inarta and forego a shirt entirely - particularly not in his line of work, and with autumn only a sunrise away - but plenty of merchandise was currently on display. "I'm wasting away under here," he added, with a flicker of a wry smile.
Her gaze unflinching, the woman released her grip on the fistful of bread, and deposited it unceremoniously atop one of the two plates of mystery stew. "I hope your little Chiet girlfriend enjoys it," she shot back. Zhol rapidly entered a competition with the chunks of tomato for saturation of colour.
"She's not -" Zhol began to protest, but found himself shuffled aside by the next hungry patron before he had the opportunity to state his case.
He wove his way through the swarm of departing Avora, and past the queue of Chiet whose patience came in varying degrees, in complete silence, all his self-control focused on bringing the flush in his cheeks back under control. The seats that he had sent Khara to scout out were thankfully out of sight line and earshot of of his half-successful attempt at seduction; he wasn't sure whether a glower or a look of introvert sorrow would have met him if Khara had seen, but he didn't particularly feel like he had the emotional fortitude to withstand either.
He settled a plate in front of Khara, and one in front of himself, before swinging his legs over the seat and settling into place. "I don't know what's in it," he admitted; a brief moment of hesitation lingered before he reached for the bread and tore it in half, one portion given to Khara and himself. His focus shifted downwards as his cutlery performed the same bisection of the Avora's meat portion; the squelch as the hunk of probably moose oozed into the fluid of Khara's serving was somewhat less appetising than he would have liked. Distribution complete, his eyes climbed to Khara's, and he flashed her an easy smile. "I thought it best not to ask, all things considered."
A subtle shift of his shoulders widened the plunging neckline of his shirt. It wasn't intended to be quite so revealing, but wear and tear had taken their toll on his work clothes. He hadn't quite mustered the courage to go full Inarta and forego a shirt entirely - particularly not in his line of work, and with autumn only a sunrise away - but plenty of merchandise was currently on display. "I'm wasting away under here," he added, with a flicker of a wry smile.
Her gaze unflinching, the woman released her grip on the fistful of bread, and deposited it unceremoniously atop one of the two plates of mystery stew. "I hope your little Chiet girlfriend enjoys it," she shot back. Zhol rapidly entered a competition with the chunks of tomato for saturation of colour.
"She's not -" Zhol began to protest, but found himself shuffled aside by the next hungry patron before he had the opportunity to state his case.
He wove his way through the swarm of departing Avora, and past the queue of Chiet whose patience came in varying degrees, in complete silence, all his self-control focused on bringing the flush in his cheeks back under control. The seats that he had sent Khara to scout out were thankfully out of sight line and earshot of of his half-successful attempt at seduction; he wasn't sure whether a glower or a look of introvert sorrow would have met him if Khara had seen, but he didn't particularly feel like he had the emotional fortitude to withstand either.
He settled a plate in front of Khara, and one in front of himself, before swinging his legs over the seat and settling into place. "I don't know what's in it," he admitted; a brief moment of hesitation lingered before he reached for the bread and tore it in half, one portion given to Khara and himself. His focus shifted downwards as his cutlery performed the same bisection of the Avora's meat portion; the squelch as the hunk of probably moose oozed into the fluid of Khara's serving was somewhat less appetising than he would have liked. Distribution complete, his eyes climbed to Khara's, and he flashed her an easy smile. "I thought it best not to ask, all things considered."
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.