#mercenarymage

After managing to fool someone on a whim, Hugh thinks he can get away with anything. So, the next time he bumps into someone, he decides this will be the next one he'll have some fun with. "Wild night, isn't it?" He says, trying to play it cool. He offers a mint. "Have you tried one of these? I accidently grabbed one too many."

"'Wild' indeed, yes! I hadn't expected the technology would advance to such a point so fast... But it seems the crowd is enjoying it very much." Easy small talk. That's what tonight's for, right? To an extent.

'Has he tried one of these?'

Sir. This isn't his first Ethereal Ball, thanks much.

But Azama doesn't scoff. Eyes crinkle with gratitude as he accepts the mint. He's intimately familiar with them, but that does not preclude him being fooled - in this case, however, he is banking on it.

"Why, thank you. Don't mind if I do."

It tastes about as bad as he remembers. Actually, might be it tastes worse, even, but that's just as well. Azama makes a face, and suddenly hand flies to his throat. Eyes widen, staring at Hugh and yet unable to focus.

"You- you've p... poi-- me--?!"

And here, Azama collapses. (Maybe a touch too dramatically but shhh.)

There had been a couple of familiar faces tonight. Folks he had recalled from the last he had been taking jobs around the academy, and those he fought beside long ago. The person he spots in the crowd is the latter - and when he does spot the guy? Oh, does he have a thing or two to say.

"Hey! What's someone like you doing here? Not causing trouble, are we-" The last words trail off, however, when something doesn't add up. There's no bark back at him, for one. Maybe he confused Lugh with Raigh, then? He goes to apologize but, no, this isn's Lugh, either.

Who is she?

"Uh, I mean..." He searches for something to say, but struggles to do so. He's too distracted by how familiar she looks. She could probably tell him that she's the long lost triplet, and he'd believe her.

Someone's calling out - certainly not for her. The only people who'd talk to her like that are...well. She'd rather not think about it. It's not them.

Nino turns around anyway, though. Just in case. But her brothers are not there. The guy who'd called out is unfamiliar, and he seems just bewildered as she is.

No, what he doesn't want to admit is that it is him of the two that one should be concerned about. That he is the one in need of a watchful eye.

"Glad to see you're alright." Hugh puts on a smile, as he always does. It's not particularly pronounced, though - just grateful. "If you need anything, let me know. I don't expect we'll be resting here long." 

Between the strange letter and the dwindling supplies, he's sure they'll want as many hands as they can.

"...Hugh."

His is the second of the faces Sophia had been looking for. A degree of tension eases in her shoulders to see him smiling as always. Even if it were to be little more than a front put on to set at ease, the fact that he can find it within himself to act normally in this situation does settle her nerves a bit. Even if she can't match his smile, she appreciates that he tried at all.

(She had thought as much during their little candy game, but Hugh really is a nice person.)

At Hugh's offer, her neutral expression falters. Is there anything she needs? Is there anything she's selfish enough to ask for, after all they've lost? Her own injuries are negligible thanks to the healing her unit had possessed and she doesn't particularly think she can stomach any food at the moment. What then? Supplies for the other injured are a given and he isn't asking what everyone else wants.

What is it that she wants?

He'd have to alert those heading out next.

As he jots down a few notes regarding the creatures, from the corner of his eye he spots Yuzu. Though she sustained a small injury from their time fighting the monsters, she's already up and about - it's exactly what he expects of her, at this point. "Already rearing to go again, huh? Just make sure you don't push yourself too much, ok?" He calls out to her, remaining put otherwise.

Well, It's not like Hugh's doing any better himself. If anything, he's the one who came out of this worse for wear. He's at least changed out the bandages for something fresh, so he doesn't look as beaten up as he did when they first returned, but if anyone shouldn't be pushing themselves, it's absolutely him.

Hugh's...still trying to pretend otherwise, of course.

She notices the brush of purple from the corner of her eye, but honestly wouldn’t have looked back until hearing the mercenary call to her. When Yuzu turns to face him, Hugh is lower toward the floor looking at…something.

It hasn’t been extremely long since she’s seen him last: from the looks of things, the final foray in the forest had gone smoothly, with no new injuries suffered by anyone. Not even Hugh, whose wrappings on his sides - new or old - prove that the patrol may have been the most rough on him.

By comparison, Yuzu had to suffer little besides the nostalgic cursed breath of a necrodragon. Looking back on their series of fights, Yuzu could not be more proud of how she performed under the stress of the moment. But is there more that she could have done to protect him…their support?

Partially curious to observe his current state, Yuzu approaches Hugh and stands above him. He is still semi-occupied with whatever is on the floor, granting the opportunity to see his shoulder…and a peek of older bandages hiding a steel-inflicted gash.

“Would it be cliche to reflect the suggestion back at you?” Yuzu’s voice is serious, but coated with genuine concern. “There’s nearby villages that are…less rambunctious and need the help if you’d rather support on the si-”

She stops her rambling, her eyes finally unable to avoid the floor much longer. She leans in closer, nearly hovering her head over Hugh’s injured shoulder. The handwriting is still not the quickest to get used to, but is eligible enough to pick out a few words.

“It is,” Selena agrees, eyes trained on the lights overhead. Watching them twinkle and shine, dashing against the black backdrop of a makeshift sky, Selena realizes there is a poetry one could wax here over the ability of mankind to make its own hope; but Selena is not a poet. (They are lovely all the same.)

“Right, because I am unaware that a wish spoken aloud will not come true.” (But perhaps that is merely superstition—one that, beyond her hometown, her home country, her continent of origin, is scarcely known nor heeded.) Still, her voice is oddly calm as she speaks, amicable despite what is very likely intended by the man’s words—perhaps it is the moons that she has spent at the monastery, time that calls for less vigilance and hostility than that within a proper army.

“That said,”—and here, she takes one of her own string of pearls, exchanging it for his black feather—“it never is a bad thing to have allies when you need it.”

"Have you tried these, yet?" He asks, a practiced smile forming as he lifts the second of the three off the plate. "Each one's got a fun little surprise inside, but they're not overpowering, either. I can see why they're popular."

All of the tables are filled with refreshments of all kinds, begging to be chosen and consumed. Although Citrinne is one who easily steps around the dancing couples and idle passerby during balls and galas, events that suit her element, she is less comfortable picking food in a foreign land. She currently finds herself with hand on chin, pondering over the sweets in particular.

Out of the corner of her view, another man approaches to select and dish, popping a small bun into his mouth. She keeps one eye settled to see his reaction, only to realize that he is approaching her at the same time.

"Popular? You don't say..." Citrinne lifts an eyebrow in interest and selects her own trio of pastries. She skips the first one to mimic the consumption of the purple fellow, popping the second into her mouth and chewing. Somewhat nutty, yet the sweetness of honey breaks through to force a smile on her lips.

A casual observer might see the way Sophia stands just off to the side, hands folded in front of her, and assume disinterest in the whole affair. If not disinterest, then maybe hesitance about involving herself with a bunch of strangers? Or maybe she's just at that rebellious age where it's uncool to get caught caring about candy games?

A well-trained eye, however, would see the way her eyes dart every which way, trying to take in all of the sights. Perhaps part of it genuinely is a shy nature, but rather than fear, it is an overwhelming sense of not knowing what to do with herself that fixes her to her spot. With no outlet, her excitement circulates within herself until it makes her breathless.

By all appearances, it just looks like she's standing there pretty normally, though.

"...Yes."

It's a simple response, punctuated by a short nod. She tilts the brim of her hat upward so she can actually see Hugh. As fun as it is to wear such a big hat, it restricts her field of vision far more than she expected when she was picking it out.

It's all fun and games until Hugh remembers that he's supposed to be doing something of a job here. Mainly, it's just keeping an eye on things to make sure things aren't going into complete and utter chaos - but it would have probably helped to have known in advance about the lighting! Still, when he wanders about the halls, he can't help but notice that some of the rooms that should have been unlocked are definitely not.

Should he do anything about them? Maybe, if it means a higher pay at the end. But, maybe he can take a look inside, first. Definitely not because he needs a break or anything.

Hugh strolls on inside. The noise outside is mostly blocked thanks to these walls, and it's a nice, quiet break from the music. He's about to take a seat, however, when he spots someone else here.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?"

What Hugh should be doing is dragging the person out of here, but he's too busy taking a break himself to consider that.

Heath's tolerance for social activities may have increased in recent years, but he still has his limits. A small storage room provides blessed reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the ball's main floor, and the chair he finds isn't half bad, either. He breathes deeply, enjoying the open window's gift of cool night air while nursing a glass of wine.

"Oh! No, not really." He's not the only one who's noticed these spaces, it seems. At least it's not a pair of lovebirds or a mischievous student. Probably, at least. He thinks he recognizes the man, from some kind of mission...? His hair is a distinct shade of purple--not the one Heath's on the lookout for, but familiar enough that it gnaws at him. "Just resting for a bit."

He tilts his head back, eyes briefly fluttering shut before thinking better of it. There's still time left in the night yet, and he'd rather not sleep it all away.

"I've had a good time, don't get me wrong. But it all gets to be a bit much without a break, you know?" The young man's accent is familiar, too. Almost...Ilian? Had they taken a mercenary contract together, perhaps? "I should probably get back soon, but I won't bother you until then."

They sit there for a moment in silence. Heath had said he'd leave the man alone, but he can't quite shake the feeling. Absently, he fidgets with the flowers in his bouquet, finally removing one as he rises.