auspex_caelo | Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass

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Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass_captain)

Organizing a proper wedding is no small affair even on Earth. In Tamriel, without the benefit of instant communications, instant transport and year-round amenities, it requires a good deal more planning. Particularly when it comes to guests who live any distance away. Roads and seaways alike are dangerous. Bandits prowl the land routes. Inclement weather closes mountain passes and keeps ships in their berths. Everything, above all, takes time.

With spring in full flight, snows melting and roads well and truly open, the excuses for delays in invitation replies and guest arrivals are both running out. Mostly this hasn’t been an issue. The arcane side of their guest list have their own ways of sending word, and the military side have first call on the Imperial courier network. Everyone who matters is accounted for. Except, that is, for one…

In the library of the Bruma house, Stratos leans on a desk covered in papers and rubs his eyes. Another day, another absence of word. Marcella did warn him that her mother would be nigh-impossible to contact. She was almost too resigned to the fact to be grumpy about it. But Stratos had thought his connections would get him where his cousin had been unable to reach. The trouble, he sees now, is that he really can’t be sure where that is.

One guest. Perhaps it’s not a disaster if she can’t be there. But this is his mother’s sister, and they have so few near relatives left, since the War….

And he’s getting worried.

Stratos rises then, and tidies away his writing implements. He heads downstairs to his room and changes into better gear for travelling- not too warm, he doubts he’s going to end up in Skyrim – and then he goes to knock on Felix’s – well, his and Jim’s – door. Nereus is out visiting with Terentius, so there’s nothing else to distract the youngest two, nothing else that ought to be occupying them. And if they’re still resting on the Enterprise - well, he’ll just have to go there and fetch one of them.

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"I didn't realize it was so populated, before." But it's not as though plenty of other species have built their civilizations far too close to natural disasters waiting to happen before. Humans are guilty of that too. Especially back before anyone knew any better. But they're walking away from the area. Jim's all too aware that humanitarian aid isn't why they're out here today. Presumably if anyone could stop it or temper the damn thing they would have already.

Besides, Stratos is remarking on Felix not being brought along. It drags Jim out of his reveries and makes him wince. He's more aware than he probably should be of the tempestuous relationship between the two brothers. "Let's. Please. It feels wrong to be out here without him as is."

"Of course it was." This world feels like everyone is occupying everyone else at some point or another. His jaw ticks slightly but it's hardly Stratos' doing. He keeps his mouth shut on the matter. "Hope they want steel and glassware more than they want to mug us then."

Stratos gives him a sympathetic look. It's hard not to look at Jim and Felix sometimes and wonder what it's like to be so very much in love. Something to hope for, one day. But he's thankful his little brother found this captain from the stars. It's made a better man of him, troubled as his road has been.

"He may sulk, but he'll get over it. Especially for you." He reaches back to clap Jim's shoulder. "You shouldn't worry. Besides, it's not long now before the two of you will be confined on a ship in the middle of oblivion together."

He brushes ash off the other man's shoulder and adjusts his own pack. "As for us, this is a civilized land. If we encounter that kind of trouble, I expect it to have more to do with my aunt's choice of drinking spots."

"I try to keep in mind that he wandered off first, if he does try to sulk. I didn't exactly get invited out with him, either." But it doesn't really matter whether Jim is here or not. It likely matters more that Stratos took someone that wasn't his baby brother out on this adventure. He'll have to make it up to Felix as best he can later. Or at least work to frame it in a good light for Stratos's case later.

"It's not so bad, that." Stratos has seen a glimpse of it for himself, even.

It's not going to be terribly long before both of their eyes are stinging with discomfort from the ash, even heading away from the towering blight on the horizon as they are. They're protected from the worst affects by the scarves round their mouth and noses but it's not going to be the easiest trek. Jim hasn't bothered to wipe at his face any either.

"Best not to rub at your eyes, even to dry them. They'll only water again and you'll be rubbing the irritant into them further."

Stratos is clearly trying to do his stoic, nothing-gets-to-a-tribune act, but Jim is family and he gets to catch the muttered curse beneath Stratos's scarf as the Imperial tugs a hood around his face.

"This is maddening. How do the Dunmer tolerate it?" No wonder their eyes are red, he thinks. There must be something a mage can do- perhaps an oakflesh spell would ward it off, but then he'd need to conceal it to maintain the ordinary merchant act...

It's a problem he's pondering as they make their way down between woodland and mushrooms, tramping over the wooden bridges that cover over small waterways. They're alone for a little while, before low, croaking grunts herald the approach of a small merchant caravan. At the head pace a couple of Dunmeri soldiers, totally concealed beneath chitin armor - complete with goggles.

Behind them come an assortment of squat, brown, bipedal creatures with leathery scaled skin, something like little dinosaurs with oversized tadpole heads and tiny eyes. Each is loaded up with a harness bearing bundles and sacks, and they waddle along docilely under the watchful eye of an Argonian herdmaster... although one can only tell his race by the tail poking out from his clothes. A couple of the bigger specimens have Dunmer merchants astride them instead, and though he steps aside Stratos lifts a hand to greet them politely.

Edited 2019-09-08 11:54 (UTC)

"Protective eye wear, from what I can see of the travelers we've passed by. It's possible to get used to it a bit too, but we aren't going to be out here long enough for that I'd wager."

Jim's honestly less bothered by it than Stratos is. It stings and its uncomfortable but it's temporary and he's been in much worse hospitable terrain than this over his years. For a little while at least he can tough it out. It stings like a motherfucker but he was ready for this the moment Stratos mentioned needing protection from ash.

In fact, the biggest pity about not having anything over their eyes is that Jim has to remember to school his gaze. When the caravan approaches the man from the Void has to actively stop himself from gaping like a fish. Instead he shuffles to move off of the road for them to pass by. It's a chance to rest and catch his breath a little. To rearrange the scarf around his nose and mouth, and to carefully wipe the tears off of his exposed cheeks without rubbing anything more into his eyes.

"Well met." Jim murmurs politely. He has to squint through the wetness in his eyes a bit to see if any of them will give the pair of humans any attention whatsoever. If they will he's going to nudge Stratos slightly. Drop his voice to a whisper beneath the scarf. "Think they'd sell to us?"

"It's surely worth trying," Stratos murmurs back. Sounds like Jim's mind is focused on much the same thing as his. The Imperial steps forward as the merchants draw near, and the better-dressed of the two calls out to the rest of the caravan to halt while they stop and speak.

He return's Stratos's greeting with a polite enough, "Well met, serah," though the Dunmer's expression is all the harder to read behind his mask; admittedly, as they speak there's a tinge of impatience to his voice. It softens on the realization that Stratos is willing to give him some coin for the trouble, and in short enough order the Argonian is being ordered to get a couple of spare goggles out of a guar's burden. Stratos is damned sure that he's paying an excessive amount, but no amount of Imperial charm can hide how red the humans' eyes are. He wasn't thinking ahead, or he might have cast an illusion. Still, it matters little, and it's gratifying to find that Imperial septims are still good here.

He asks about the nearest settlement along this road before wishing the merchants a swift and safe journey. As they move off, he passes Jim a pair of the goggles: two circles of glass set in a leather band. The glass won't be as clear as the Terran man is used to, and the leather won't be comfortable, but they're clean and new and seal fairly well around the eyes. Getting them on is going to be one hell of a relief for both men.

"It's another four hours on foot to the town of Selfora," he says. "I think that places it close to my estimate of our destination, but if Lartia isn't there, we'll at least be able to find an inn for the night." Travelling east has cost them a significant portion of daylight: the sun's not low yet, but it's definitely descending.

While Stratos is internally summing up just how overpriced their purchase is, Jim's obliviously murmuring a polite thanks to both the Argonian and the Dunmer merchant. They're both incredibly lucky that they've run into a merchant at all out here on these sparsely populated roads. One that's willing to trade at that and who has the gear they sorely would like. His farewell is probably more earnest than it should be before they're going their separate ways once more.

The sting won't leave their eyes for a while but it will gradually lessen the longer they're on the road properly equipped. They're both going to be nursing headaches by the time they stop to make camp but those at least can be more easily treated.

"Whew. That's a hell of a hike. I'm up for it though." Especially now that they're well and away from any giant beasts that would try to chomp either man in half. The last time Stratos had his brother-in-law to be along with him for a trek it wasn't for nearly so lighthearted a journey. This time Jim fills the air while they walk with stories about his ship, things he's seen across his version of Oblivion. Does his best to describe his seemingly impossible cosmos to the well educated Nirnish battlemage.

It helps to pass the time as they crest one hill that turns into a dozen, picking their way across an uneven path. Jim asks Stratos things too. About his time spent in High Rock (another place he's only vaguely heard of). Other people they pass by on the roads spread rumor about ghouls stacking chairs out in the ash wastes and other nonsensical stories that leave Jim wondering if he's missing some kind of explanation for a Nirnish idiom or another.

As the sun's setting, however, even the outdoorsy Kirk is breathing heavily. He's stifling with his mouth and nose covered. Head aching for the hindered vision and stiff leather of the goggles they wear. Body yearning for a meal, drink, and most importantly: rest. Conversation's dried up in favor of deep long breaths. Slower steps. They're nearly to the top of the most recent hill their winding road has lead them down.

Stratos has plenty of stories to tell, about the customs of Breton chivalry, the festivals of the small kingdoms, of the people he's met from Hammerfell delegations to privateers to rarely-seen monks. For every question Jim asks, Stratos has one of his own about the worlds and people the space captain has met; tales the Imperial tribune has slowly gained context for over the years, until he's able to follow along with words like transporter and warp anomaly and planetary ionosphere. Well, mostly follow along.

The fall has eased off slowly over the last hour, so when they crest the hill and see lights below them through the ash-specked glass, Stratos pushes his goggles up from his eyes. There's a downhill walk through some low woodland, by the look of it, but beyond the mushroom stands are the walls of a small township, street lanterns glowing through the evening mist.

Stratos takes a moment to appreciate the sigh, sighing in relief. "Not far, now. We should purchase a meal and shelter before we explore further."

With a downhill road and newfound motivation, it won't take them long to reach the open gates (there is a guard, though he merely nods at them and Stratos doesn't find the defenses very impressive). The buildings of Selfora are mostly small, single-storey houses with roofs curved like the upturned hull of a boat. Dunmer architecture, at least here, seems to favor sharp peaks that sweep down and outward into curving points. It looks almost like a cross between Gothic and classical Japanese architecture, quite unlike either the smooth outlines of Cyrodiil or the twining patterns of Skyrim. A few people are out sweeping the ash from their doorsteps: nearly all are Dunmer, aside from one Argonian and a couple of people who look human.

Edited 2019-09-14 20:41 (UTC)

Next to the Imperial, Jim is bent over with his hands on his own thighs, breathing heavily. The cloth around his face sticks to him at every in hale before puffing back out with his exhales. "Yeah--yeah. I mean if you're needing to stop then we should..." Give him a second to catch his breath again, "We should definitely stop for the night."

What Jim means is that he needs the rest too. Admitting such things isn't very easy for him even on his own ship. Out here where Jim's all too aware of how little of a help he is the man's determined not to be a burden to anyone.

Thankfully it's a downhill walk from here. Not even the alien beauty of this place can slow Jim's steps for long when he's got to keep up with Stratos. (The promise of a warm meal and a place to sleep drives him forward too). Security seems a bit more lax than Jim's seen around other towns but perhaps with the volcano disrupting much of the land people are needed for more important work.

Not even Jim's aching feet nor grumbling stomach will keep him from admiring the architecture at least a little bit. With the sky stained with color these strange designs feel just familiar enough form Earth history books to draw his eye even if he knows this place is nothing at all like his home world. His fatigue works somewhat in the captain's favor as it keeps him from turning on the spot to gape at every new sight as they round a corner.

"Is Cyrodillic known here? If not I'm...not going to be much use seeing to supplies or our needs."

With the goggles pushed up, it might just be possible to spot the way Stratos's eyes crinkle when he looks back at Jim. But the light is low, and they both want to hurry on down into the low-lying town.

There's so much Stratos doesn't understand about this place. The strange architecture, yes, he can guess it keeps the ash off. But why is the town built down so low and not on a good defensive hill? For that matter, the defenses aren't much to look at. Even if the Dunmer do have ancestral ghosts to fight at their side, the simple walls are half stone. How stable is this region, then? The capital is all the way over on the other side of the provi- of Morrowind.

"Most people should speak it," he answers Jim. "It's still the main language of trade among kingdoms. I do know some Dunmeris, but if we encounter difficulty I won't rely on it." Of all the places he's planned for visiting, Morrowind never really featured on the list.

This town seems... comfortably appointed, at least. And people don't stop to stare at them, so it's clear that foreign traders are an ordinary sight. Stratos looks around until he spots a larger-than-average building; one with two storeys and a wooden sign painted with a cup. A couple of Dunmeri women are sitting out with bottles of something, chatting in their native tongue, and they glance over the strangers with interest. Stratos gives them a slight bow before they head inside toward the buzz of chatter

Within the inn there is, of course, the smell of smoke. Jim's learned by now that even in the heat of summer, a lit hearth in the kitchens is not optional for anyone who wants a hot meal. The fireplace in the main room is cold though, and the window shutters are all flung open, encouraging the smell from the kitchens to waft out among the guests. There's a musky herbal scent in the air too, perhaps coming from the lamps around the room and on the tables. Stratos sweeps a glance around the room, but there's no sign nor sound of a middle-aged Imperial woman with a raucous laugh. Catching Jim's eye, he nods and heads over to greet the innkeeper.

"Greetings, outlander, and welcome to Selfora Inn. If you're looking for a good meal and a soft bed for the night, you've come to the right place." The man's giving them a shrewd once-over as he speaks, clearly appraising the importance (i.e., wealth) of these customers.

"That's just what my companion and I were hoping to hear..."

With their ash streaked hair and covered faces they both look like any other pair of human travelers making their way across the Morrowind countryside. Perhaps their only interesting feature is the fact that they are in fact human, although their well made and patch-free clothing certainly probably draws eyes a little bit as well.

Jim's bow is more of an afterthought than Stratos' purposeful one is. He clearly doesn't know his way around. Or maybe he's just that enthralled in the atmosphere and smell of the inn they're walking into. A huge sigh of relief escapes the man as he reaches up to pull his goggles off his head completely. It pulls his hair slightly to the side but it hardly matters when they remove their cloth masks. Underneath Stratos is every inch a fine Bruma man and very obviously Imperial. Jim's not nearly so strong jawed as his companion and though he carries the bow on his back there's not a fairer face for a hundred leagues in any direction.

They've clearly not been raised doing hard labor, even if neither man looks to be dressed like a nobleman. Neither carries any sort of accessory save for the goggles they walked in with and their packs are nowhere near full but they're of good quality like everything else about them.

"Like music to my ears." Stratos' companion agrees, his accent just a touch strange. "Any chance to wash up and I'll be beside myself."

Some coin has to change hands, and then the innkeeper nods and gestures up the nearby stairs as he reaches for a lantern. He seems satisfied that they have coin to spare and they're not likely to cause him any trouble, outlanders or not. "Right this way."

The room he has for them is toward the front of the upper floor, with a couple of small beds either side of the room. The innkeeper uses a taper to light the lamps in the room from his lantern, then pushes open the window shutters for them to let the air in.

"I'll send the girl up with a wash basin for you. Light the candles by the window if you've any trouble with marsh flies coming in. Supper tonight is your choice of cabbage soup, kwama scrib risotto or roast guar. Just head on down when you need anything."

Stratos thanks him as he leaves, already laying down his pack and pulling off his goggles and hood with a sigh. He may be a legionnaire, but even they get tired at the end of a day's march, and truth be told the tribune hasn't spent a lot of time marching on foot for a while.

"I suppose my aunt can't go that much farther while we take a rest..."

A day's march on top of climbing, spellcasting, and a good old panicked sprint at one point. It's been a busy day for both men. Jim's quick to divest himself of his gear until he's dressed down to his simple tunic and trousers taking a seat at the foot of the bed nearest to him.

"Okay what's kwahrmay scrib? I think...is risotto rice? Like a mixed vegetable and grain kind of dish?" Names are always tricky for Jim to remember, especially meals uncommon at either the Caelus table or a Legion's camp. "Gwarr has to be some kind of meat if it's being roasted, right? The only thing I understood was cabbage soup, to be honest."

Finding Stratos' aunt is still very important, of course, but dinner is an Immediate task.

Edited 2019-09-19 15:34 (UTC)

"Risotto is a rice dish, yes. It's normally rice cooked slowly in a rich sauce. Kwama are a sort of giant insect creature native to this region. The Dunmer farm their eggs and meat. I think scribs are the young ones, but I've only ever tried the eggs. They're very popular in Cheydinhal and Bravil." And though Stratos pulls a dubious face at the thought of eating larval insects, he's not at all bothered about the eggs. He's used to those. "Guar are the beasts we saw on the road. There are quite a few varieties bred for different purposes: I expect this would be a smaller one. That's the safer option as far as dinner goes..."

He looks up as footsteps outside and a polite knock on the door herald a Dunmer girl with a hefty amphora tucked under her arm. She nods to them and sets the amphora inside, then brings in a basin to the dresser and fills it for them before bustling about her tasks, leaving the amphora in case they need a refill. Stratos catches Jim's eye and gestures to it with a half smile. "After you."

Insect larvae. Yum. Jim's eaten some weird things in his time out in the Black but there's always some things that are easier to wrap his head (or stomach in this case) around than others. Of course, he's eaten giant tarantula meat before thanks to Harrowheart and that honestly tasted pretty similar to shellfish. So while it's not the most appetizing option it might honestly taste just fine. Who even knows? Besides, Jim's got a small allergy kit wrapped carefully up in plenty of native cloth sitting at the bottom of his pack if he needs it.

"Whatever you end up trying I'll take as well." Simpler than trying to remember and pronounce all of those names again. The captain pauses where he's knelt over his pack tucking away his goggles and mask when the door opens. Dunmer aren't a race he's had a chance to meet many of, though in features they're not so different from some of the other peoples he has had a chance to meet during his time knowing the Caeluses.

"Thank God." It's a good thing the Dunmer girl has left already because Jim doesn't catch his own relieved exclamation until she's gone. "Damn, I mean--whatever. I need to be more careful about that." A chance to clean up sounds divine in any language. "I'll be quick." Jim murmurs before he sets about stripping down so he can shake out his clothes and clean up.

Stratos chuckles behind him. "'Thank Mara' is a good substitute, if you can remember. As long as you're speaking Cyrodillic I think people won't take much notice."

He's not going to begrudge his brother-in-law-to-be a chance to wash down. He's the one who'll want to make a good first impression on Aunt Lartia. Stratos allows him some privacy though, and turns away, leaning out the window to beat some of the ash off their outer clothes. Clean is a bit much to ask around here, where the earth falls from the sky. But the Dunmer must manage, somehow. He does pull out a cake of soap to set near Jim. One needs to be prepared on the road. Once Jim's done, it'll be his turn to strip off and scrub down. Strange local menu or not, he's already remembering the kitchen smells downstairs.

"This is a port town," he mentions absently. "If Lartia's nearby, I think my spell was pointing us toward the docks."

"Right. I'll have to work on that."

He mutters the phrase under his breath a few times while seeing about washing up as swiftly as possible. Thank Mara, thank Mara. The water's far less cold than what Jim's used to using around Stratos' camp. A nice change of pace, really. His hurrying is more for Stratos' sense of decency than it is because he's freezing, for once.

"Ah, thanks." He hadn't thought to grab any soap for his pack. Stratos is well prepared. It won't be the kind of bath Felix always talks so fondly of (and yet Jim's never seen any real proof of them) but it's a damn sight cleaner than they walked in as.

"Your turn. I'm decent." Dragging a hand through his hair in an attempt to make sense of it as he moves to swap places with Stratos. His tunic's hanging open with the ties loose but at least he is dressed from head to toe. "Should we make our way down after eating then?"

Felix has been happily wallowing in Jim's bathing facilities all this time. If Jim reminds him that he's never seen an Imperial bath-house, he might find his fiance remedying that in a hurry.

"Yes. I know it's been a long day, but if we are close... I don't want to risk her slipping away again. Certain crews will sail at night, and if she boards a boat we'll have a far harder time reaching her." He's brisk about scrubbing down, dragging a comb through his hair once he's pulled his tunic back on.

"If you're willing to try it, I'll order the risotto for us both. And... something light with it, I think." They need their wits about them. But it would be a shame to take his explorer brother-in-law to Morrowind and not sample the local fare.

"I hadn't even thought about her taking a boat. Do we even have time to eat then?"

Jim's stopped fussing with his hair and clothes with that realization. A ripple of tension has overcome him once more, ready to head out at so much as a hint of a word from Stratos. Hard day's march, hunger or no, Jim's used to pushing himself harder than he probably should to see a job done. Even one as pleasant as this could end in fruitless chasing if Stratos' aunt sails far out of reach underneath their noses.

"I've got my allergy kit with me, so worst case scenario, I'm a little bit uncomfortable while we get the job done. I'm more worried about any drink to be honest, than I am the food." He's more than amenable to insectoid meat in his risotto seems like.

"If we've got the time to spare." Just to stress again, Jim is willing to put aside hunger in favor of seeing the job done. For all the areas he comes up short in adapting to Nirn in other areas, stamina is not one of them.

Stratos looks up from his fussing at that, spying the tension in the younger man's posture. It makes him reconsider his words before he reaches out to clasp the captain's shoulder. "We've been on the march all day. A rest and a quick meal will make us more fit for the search. And if I don't take proper care of you, Felix will be furious with me when we return."

Take proper care of...? What is Jim, a companion or a pet? Still he can't help but to pull a grin of his own. Felix when he's fussy and sulking is more adorable than Jim thinks the mage Wants to be seen as. He's never admitted it aloud but the smile on his face probably says as much to Stratos at least.

"We wouldn't want that. He tends to hold grudges better with you than he does me." Bug and rice for supper then and hopefully a glass of--well, probably ale. He knows better than to drink water in a strange place and wine's right out.

At least they're fit to be seen downstairs among the others after washing up properly. Which is all for the best ebcause Jim is going to be giving everything a curious and friendly eye. It may be the only time he gets to see this corner of Tamriel and he'd like to make the most of it.

You're his other younger brother now, Jim. Of course it's his responsibility to watch out for you, especially given how much trouble your fiance can cause if he's put out. Stratos's exasperated eyeroll and the rueful nod he gives in answer to Jim's remark testifies to it.

Several of the Dunmer downstairs are doing some people-watching themselves, and the tavern is starting to fill as people come in from the fields. Jim's going to find a few people looking back at him either idly or with obvious appraisal. Their clothes are clearly of a different fashion to anything in the Empire, and around them the conversation is a mix of Dunmeric with some Cyrodillic sprinkled in. Stratos wastes no time in calling for two bowls of the risotto and mazte for them both - the latter arrives first and proves to be a mild local brew, smooth to the taste if a little heavy.

A serving girl sets their bowls in front of them a few moments later. The risotto certainly doesn't look intimidating, the rice a pale orange-red in a creamy sauce with unfamiliar spices. The kwama meat is springled through it in small chunks, a simple grey-brown meat with the texture of a crayfish but a meatier taste. Stratos has to pause and school his expression when he tastes it- he's not repulsed, exactly, he just doesn't know how he feels about it.

"I've... certainly eaten worse," he murmurs tactfully, while he tries to get over the novelty.

The human doesn't seem to be dissuaded by being watched in return. His smile stays friendly and though he doesn't seem to speak a word of Dunmeri (nothing that would be allowed in polite conversation at least) he's willing to speak up here and there in Cyrodillic whenever necessary. And if some of the locals laugh when Jim's eyebrows raise in shock for how heavy the mazte is, well. He's not a heavy drinker. Especially after a long day's march, he has to really go easy on the drink.

The food then is going to take the bulk of his attention. And while Stratos might hesitate Jim's hungry enough to dig right in.

"Mmh. It's really not bad. Good choice." With night coming the temperature is dropping to a dry cool that is only felt inside the tavern in wisps and bursts every time the door is opened. Even with the new meal to think over, Jim's gaze is lingering on the door before long.

"From the little bit's I've heard about her over the years...how much should I be steadying myself for meeting your aunt? She sounds like quite the trip from what I've heard."

"She's certainly... a strong personality." Stratos is getting used to the texture of the meal, spurred on by hunger and the desire to finish swiftly. "It has been some years since I last met her, and perhaps she's become exaggerated in my memory. But... you can't be a quaestor in the Legion without a certain force of will. And volume. I think you'll find Lartia rather different to the rest of us. Not in a bad way," he adds hastily. "Maybe I should say that she has Marcella's backbone, Felix's sense of fun and Ushug's sort of attitude."

"That's a hell of a combination right there."

Jim chuckles softly to himself around bites of the risotto. What's more the captain honestly likes all three of the people Stratos is comparing Lartia to. Add in the fact that neither Felix or Stratos have seen her in a long time just makes this trip all the more important to Jim's mind. They've scoured far and wide to find her, and with a little luck it'll be a good reunion.

He wouldn't be nearly so optimistic if they were talking about those kinds of odds in meeting with Jim's own family, but Felix's have been nothing but a delight to get to know over the years. Then again, soon they Will be his family. That's still so strange to think about. He's really going to have to get used to it.

While there's no chance of Jim finishing such a heavy drink he will clean his bowl of the risotto quite happily. A long day's worth of climbing, trekking, and a bit of running for his life have worked up quite the appetite.

"I"m ready to go when you are."

Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass_captain)

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