As the alchemist fell to silence, Vitruvion did nothing. The smile that had been playing on his lips disappeared, and instead he let the quiet allow him to build up his powers. If Nevin was wanting to extend an awkward moment, the noble was willing to let it happen as he began to pry at the borders of Nevin's mind. With no knowledge of how exactly the natural protection worked for each individual born under the Althanas gods’ Vitruvion had to work on each as a case by case basis. A blood mage was one mind he had never been privy to and thus the interest came to him, so he let his presence reign. He leant back and concentrated on assessing every border that was at Nevin's mind, trying to gain a clue as to how to the alchemist worked, what precisely it meant to have another soul attached to yours, what weaknesses he might have besides the obvious …

“Good tea,” he commented, distracting both himself and Nevin. “Interesting place, this commoner cafe.”

He felt Stare skimming around a corner, coming within a minute or so’s run.

Nevin hid a frown behind his tea cup as he felt his magic grow agitated, the choir upon his skin and in his soul sounding angry, frightened, almost afraid. But defiant - even if he couldn't tell what was rousing his soul and magic in anger. He looked around, growing mildly agitated - was this his magic reacting to the cult he was hunting? Or was the threat closer to him? Before he could raise the question -

“Good tea.” And just like that the anger in his chorus of magic was gone returning to the low hum that pervaded it in this city. Nevin frowned and looked down at his poor excuse for tea, then to Vitruvion’s. He could see a difference in quality between what they had received, and his irritation deepened. Blasted pretty boy had gotten better quality tea than he had. It was because he had shaved his head, wasn't it?

Out of the corner of his eye Nevin saw rapid movement coming in their direction, and he half-stood, turning to face it. The motion resolved into Stare, charging down the street in their direction, and Nevin raised one hand to greet her -

“You absolute, fucking bastard.”

Vitruvion just laughed, mocking amusement clear in his melodic tones. Moving right to the corner of the bench he sat on he made room for her, but she made no gesture to sit. Instead her furious eyes, full of anger and frustration, glared at him for a moment, before she looked over to Nevin. She fought with herself for a while, wanting to swear more before she nodded at him and mouthed.

“Sorry.”

Her eyes were still full of fury but she had a glint of happiness at seeing her friend. Giving a sideways glance to Vitruvion she ducked in and gave Nevin a very brief and sudden hug before moving away, whispering another apology close to his ear.

Nevin had been mildly surprised at the venom in Stare’s voice as she rushed in and quickly began checking him over, her eyes darting across his body. The light, sardonic amusement in the other man’s laugh irritated him but he suppressed it for now, instead focusing his attention on Stare.

She looked good - better even than he had seen her back in Stonevale. There was no sign of the wounds that she had suffered in that Cobalt-taken cell, her plumage bright and healthy once more. But as he was checking her out, he was absolutely floored in shock at the sudden impetuous hug that she gave him - after the flinch and her strange stillness the two times he had touched her while they were escaping he had thought she wouldn't be able to stand touching him of her own volition, so the affectionate gesture stunned him, and it wasn't until after she had broken the gesture and he had slid aside to offer room next to him as well, that his brain resumed functioning properly.

Stare looked at him a moment, her emotions steadily softening as she kept her attention on him. As he slid aside she was caught in a moment of indecision, a myriad of quickly altering feelings making her confused and addled. Her beak parted and she blinked a few times as Vitruvion's laughter died away, her eyes flickering between the space beside her friend and the space beside her master.

One look at Vitruvion told her what to do. He even sent her an image of a raised eyebrow that did not appear on his actual face. The question was ultimately where her loyalty lay, though she doubted he would be furious long if she sat by Nevin. Despite this, she moved moodily to drop into the seat right beside Vitruvion so she was sitting across from Nevin, her hands light fists.

An awkward silence eschewed as she paused without real knowledge of what to say. Her eyes glanced over to the white-haired noble, who was now professionally lounging and smiling.

“Say what you will, my dear. Whatever you would speak even if I was not here I would hear.”