Vitruvion paused, feeling a twist of ire in the air. He swept slowly around the doorway to the dining room, looking curiously to the two people who sat there, eating grumpily and not saying anything to one another. Brows rose, and he took a moment before carefully stepping in, then walking without comment over to his seat. He drew it back, and without once looking at Nevin, his nerves still not quite there he reached for food. Mer watched in confusion as he helped himself for some time before she offered.
“Can - can I help?”
“No,” Vitruvion said in a low, quiet voice as he grabbed the wine jug and began to pour himself a healthy-sized portion. “Thank you.”
His eyes flickered a few times around the portraits of himself at various stages of his life in Raiaera, then he dropped them to swing back a mouthful of wine. He drank it, easily, his body still tense but far more relaxed than it had been half an hour earlier. Grabbing his fork he began to eat, on the cusp of proper decorum, clearly still agitated.
“Is she doing better, Sir Elssmith? I am sorry, it was not my intention to disrupt…. Well. It seems that,” Nevin’s eyes slid to Mer, who was watching him from the corner of her eye, her head down after Vitruvion rebuffed her. “Recent acquisitions can take on a mind of their own until one gets a handle on how to utilize them. I apologize for that whole situation.” Nevin bowed his head to the man for a moment. But he was also concerned about Stare, sitting dumbfounded and passive was not her normal style, and it had been rather worrisome to see her not even twitch as Vitruvion had carried her upstairs in his arms.
Well, he could see why Mer had gotten upset, if she had seen Vitruvion carrying Stare around. It was clear, even without resorting to seeing the connections between people, that Mer was enamored with the majestic white-haired man. So seeing her rival being carried by the man she was after … hopefully she listened to his advice and looked elsewhere.
He was still calling him Sir Elssmith. Vitruvion blinked a couple of times between a mouthful of sausage and one of mashed potatoes. Pausing, he almost considered saying, 'Just call me Vitruvion,’ but that seemed all a little out of sorts. Instead he focused his mind onto the ring of his third finger on his right hand and found the connection through the cuff at her wrist. Stare was currently at the bathroom, splashing water onto her face.
“She is fine,” he replied. “A lot better. She will be down shortly.” His tone was slightly off, and he still refused to make eye contact with Nevin. “She just …” he tried to think of an excuse for Mer. “Was exhausted from her journey. It came suddenly.”
There. It would do for now. He shovelled more food into his body as he could do in a posh manner, without seeming disgusting.
