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[student_of_impossibility]

Today is a little odd, as far as the sight of a certain Aleran captain at his favorite table. On the one hand, he does have a full meal in front of him, and someone watching carefully might realize it is actually being systematically demolished. He also has the almost omnipresent set of papers and a book with him. (What is the Bar for, after all, if not making more time to work--or do 'play' that anyone else would call work...) They seem almost entirely ignored--uncharacteristically, for him--except the way he occasionally taps the top of the stack thoughtfully.

Because on the other hand, Tavi is, for the most part, draped in his chair staring at nothing in particular. It looks more than a little ridiculous; tall as he is, the Bar chairs were not made to be sprawled in quite like that, especially not when he ends up tilting the chair back slightly on its back legs from time to time. He doesn't even mean to, not really--but being nearly 6'4" and having his legs stretched out and ankles crossed just results in it without trying.

What makes it notable and not just a little silly, however, is his expression. His eyes are gleaming bright with excitement, flinty triumph, and resolve. And as for his small smile-- well. It is not so faint as to be hard to spot. It could not, however, be called bright, or cheerful, or amused, or even satisfied (though that might come closest).

Someone had a very good day. (In a manner of speaking.)

Comments

[street_sparrow]

Gavroche passes - then stops, doubles back, and eyes him.

"You look pleased with yourself. And much better than last time."

[student_of_impossibility]

At the sound of his young friend's voice, Tavi's attention refocuses and he sits up straight again.

(The chair settles back onto all four feet with a faint 'thump.')

"The camp healers do good work," he says with a slightly more normal smile, waving at an empty seat. Gavroche is welcome to join; he's got extra bread and oil in case friends stop by. "And it was a learning experience."

[street_sparrow]

He sits with a smile of acknowledgment at the invitation.

"Learning not to tangle with giant humanoid wolves?"

[student_of_impossibility]

"I'm afraid that particular lesson isn't in the job description."

His tone is, at least, rather wry as he reaches for a roll of bread.

(That lesson also isn't in his brain chemistry.)

[street_sparrow]

"...no, I s'pose it wouldn't be", he allows. "Learning how to not let them wound you, at least?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"You seem happy."

Yes, Sherral does not know that look.

He himself has a bundle of maps under one arm. Plotting expedition routes through the Westersand is a long and tiresome job.

[student_of_impossibility]

"Satisfied, maybe. Today was productive." Tavi looks up with a smile--he likes Sherral.

And then his gaze falls on those maps, and his eyes light up. "What are those maps of?"

Another person might have practically bounced; Tavi's just straightened in fascination.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"The Westersand, the Zertinan Caverns, the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea and the Nam-Yensa Sandsea," Sherral says. "I've an expedition to plan. So many routes to choose from, each dangerous after their own fashion."

[student_of_impossibility]

This? This is Tavi's excited geek-with-wanderlust face.

"My Realm doesn't have deserts like this, I suspect," he decides to admit freely. "Are the different deserts all so different in how they're dangerous?"

Because obviously the caverns would be different.

[vorpatril]

Ivan's whistling a tune and unbuttoning his uniform tunic as he enters, excuses to go to concerts can be nice.

This one worked out, he had a date with a visiting Komarran who laughed at his jokes though she did go back to the palace, but they were having dinner tomorrow night.

He has to dodge around Tavi and laughs, "Careful, don't want anyone to fall over you."

[student_of_impossibility]

Tavi hastily sits up. "Sorry about that," he says wryly. "I forget I take up a lot of space sometimes."

It wasn't that long ago he was still tiny and skinny--and he's only just hitting the end of his growth spurt. He's finally about six-four.

[vorpatril]

"No, its fine, it takes some getting used to,"

It took him years of practice to figure out how to play furniture properly and his height and weight in a fight.

[student_of_impossibility]

"You'd think it would be the sort of thing to come naturally, if only to avoid door frames."

It's said off-hand, though of course if he thought about it at all he'd admit that it definitely took some interesting shifts in his movements in fight.

[vorpatril]

"Yes, I bumped my head a lot as I was growing. My cousin enjoyed that,"

Miles had his own troubles but Ivan knocking into things always made him laugh.

[oldsugartooth]

Sheogorath's light cough has yet to go away. He's not sure what could have caused it. He reckons it was probably the clowns again. He'll have to remind himself to have Haskill organize another clown burning when he gets back to New Sheoth.

In the meantime, the familiar-looking Imperial Madgod is seated in a corner, dressed in a crudely-stitched suit made of mismatched upholstery. He's busy gnawing on the wrong end of a kebab when he spies the happy-looking Aleran chowing down on his meal.

"Good day, mortal!" he says. "I feel as though I should know you."

He quickly raises a hand to silence any response. "Wait, wait, I want to guess. Jarl Balgruuf? Always knew he'd come to me eventually. No, no, wait, I've got it - Big-Toed Jim, the Breton who sold me those things with the things at the other end of 'em! Eh?"

[student_of_impossibility]

Tavi blinks. A lot. And he's pretty sure he recognizes Caius from a previous conversation, but--

"Ah. No," he says slowly after a moment, sitting up. "I'm afraid not. We don't have Bretons where I come from."

[oldsugartooth]

Sheogorath claps his hands in amused frustration. "Hah! Another realm! I really should have known. It's this cold, you see - otherwise I'd have smelled the otherworldly vapors! Smells like cornberry flan."

He begins making his way toward Tavi's table. "Well, I give up! Just who are you, surprisingly tall little mortal?"

[student_of_impossibility]

Sheogorath may be frustrated and amused; Tavi, on the other hand, is just bemused by this. Even when it's something he's seen before, the Bar still makes him glance sideways at some phenomena. "Cornberry flan?"

In general Tavi makes a habit of waiting to see how people will handle an introduction before offering his name--social experiment, really--but with the term 'mortal' he suspects falling back on politeness and respect is the better part of valor. "Rufus Scipio," he offers, along with his hand to shake.

[a1enzo]

Enzo eyes him thoughtfully. Scipio looks like himself, but could the lack of work be a warning sign? He's rather like Dot that way.

Minus, never hesitant, floats over and pings curiously at him.

[student_of_impossibility]

Well, it's not a warning sign for anyone in Bar, or for IMDb flu. A warning for the Canim? Sure.

Tavi blinks at Minus. "...Well, you're new," he comments after a moment.

[a1enzo]

Ping!

"He's mine," says Enzo, following. "His name's Minus. How's it going?"

[student_of_impossibility]

Tavi looks over with a smile. "Hello, Enzo. What is he?"

And then he shrugs fluidly. "Well, more or less. How have you been?"

[forgottenmotley]

Sneaking up quietly behind Tavi and his chair, the Fool swipes his walking stick at the legs with the intention of toppling the man over to the floor. He can't help it. The opportunity is there.

[student_of_impossibility]

Tavi isn't actually paying attention to his instincts and watercrafting consciously, but the trained assassin in him always keeps them slightly on tap.

So he manages to catch himself on the table and not fall flat on his ass, at least. It doesn't help his glass of cider, though, which gets knocked over. The impact as he hurriedly shifts his weight from the chair to the edge of the table leaves him winded for a moment.

Once he's regained his breath he glances around. Upon seeing the Fool, though, he just raises an eyebrow. "You owe me a drink now," he grumbles good-naturedly.

Most people he'd snap at for having done that. Knowing who and what Alexander is... better to focus on things other than irritation.

[forgottenmotley]

"Why? It's not my fault that the drink was spilled," he says, wide eyed and innocent looking. "You spilled it yourself."

Ah, but the Fool is so good at irritation.