closed.

[heorte]

WHO: science nerds
WHAT: vibe check
WHEN: drakonis
WHERE: wysteria's haunted house
NOTES: all fine here.

There has yet to be a chemical fire today, so Ellis feels it's safe to spread his mending out on the side of the table Tony and Wysteria haven't covered with sheets of paper. He's been carefully repairing items of clothing over the course of the afternoon, and is presently meticulously reinforcing the seam at the shoulder. It's comfortable in Wysteria's ramshackle, lightly-haunted house, and Ellis has decided not to examine that too closely. (Once he does, this place will likely cease being comfortable for him at all.)

As he's worked, he's kept half an ear on the conversation. Most of the discussion is theoretical, touching on subjects he's familiar with but can't parse well enough to contribute. However, Ellis has developed an ear for the kinds of turns a conversation takes before it veers into dangerous territory, so it's best not to zone out completely.

"It sounds like you need a dwarf," he says, when their conversation hits a lull. "If you could persuade one of their artisans or smiths to work with you."

Comments

[heirring]

Which does nothing immediate to stop the argument which she and Tony are not having in its tracks exactly, but instead has the unfortunate effect of implicating him as a willing third party. From where she sits across the table, her feet propped up in one of the other chairs (which she did not do to keep Mr. Stark from having somewhere to sit; that would be petty and her feet hurt and he can sit on the table or fetch a chair from the grand hall if he must sit) and a cup of that dreadful too sharp chicory tea balanced in her lap, Wysteria cuts a look toward Ellis.

"—Which would have been all well and good, but we've hardly any dwarven smiths or artisans in Riftwatch's employ. We might ask Sister Sara for some recommendation, I suppose. I believe she is from Orzammar, or at the very least speaks as if she's rather newly acquainted with the surface. But then of course there is the question of how we are to afford the acquisition, which may very well hinge on Monsieur de Foncé's involvement, and I guarantee that if he is involved, he will want to know the specifics, of which we have all sworn ourselves to secrecy.

"—With apologies to Mr. Fitz, of course."

Who even now has been judiciously tasked with finishing the re-organization of the library under the guise of surveying the collection there for any useful texts. 'Simply do me the favor and reshelf them as you go. Yes thank you, you're too kind,' she had said while shoving him out of the kitchen.