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It is Petrana, in fact, whose inclination seems more to the briskly efficient — an impulse more noticeable to Julius and Marcus who know her so well, and less so to the people that she curbs it for, making familiar conversation with vendors who've become accustomed to and friendly with her, asking after families and plans and newly arrived stocks. She isn't impossible to divert with some interesting thing she hadn't expected to see, but it's clear that her meandering is to purpose and that if she hadn't that purpose or their company she might easily complete her necessary tasks and be on her merry way.

Granted, quite possibly not to anything more enjoyable than her office.

Since they are here, however, she studies the display of cufflinks until she sees one with a violet stone that she thinks might be amethyst or something similar, “If we are set upon attending Miss Poppell's upcoming nuptials,” she ventures, “these might look very well for them. I had thought of getting down my riding habit,” the ostentatiously lovely velvet thing in royal purple that she's not worn in literal years, yes, “as it strikes me as quite appropriate to her theme.”

It isn't her very finest clothing — she'd not wear that to anything advertised as camping, no matter the occasion or cause — but it had been a bold assertion of status once and it is a lovely, finely made thing. She's avoided purple all these years since, developed something of an aversion to the colour that Marius had made much of her in; the prospect of matching them to her in it, instead, holds some appeal.

She isn't certain if it holds the same connotations in Thedas — she thinks not — but who is going to mind if it does, at this wedding, in this place?

"If," he says, lightly, resting his hand on Petrana's shoulder. "I wasn't aware it was still a question."

Julius, left to his own devices, tends to inevitably multitask his errands with strengthening social ties in town, so they're seldom rushed. He leaves plenty of time for conversations, planned and unplanned. But he doesn't tend to let himself linger over things that catch his eye. The change of pace is pleasant, even if it is evidently taking some adjustment. So far he's more drawn to whatever Marcus is looking at than anything for himself.

"I, for one, think Vysvolod would be deeply disappointed if we canceled."

Marcus lets his focus be drawn to the amethyst(?) cufflinks, considering them without putting his hands on anything. He's learned that merchants tend to get a little antsy when he just starts touching things, although Hightown is a little more lenient in that way, often assuming he has more money than he does in that way he presents.

"Do we expect it to be a very fancy affair?" he asks. Of course they're going. Not that Marcus is especially familiar with Miss Poppell and her betrothed, or very interested in weddings as a concept, but, you know. Attending weddings is what people do. "I remember talk of camping in the ruins."

Which a riding habit, even a velvet purple one, might match, but precious gemstones may not. Still, the idea has its charms.

“She wishes it so,” Petrana says, and if her tone is relenting then it is in answer to them both, effectively. It would have been poorly done to cancel, she can admit, though she hasn't been certain it wouldn't also be,

well, she isn't certain what it's going to be, but people do go to weddings. They could go to a wedding, the three of them. They're going on this outing and it has thus far been exceptionally pleasant.

“An eccentric choice, but I am not without some knowledge of those,” is more arch. “I thought that you might enjoy the camping, and she's given me leave to include Vysvolod in our plans. She did express in the strongest possible terms that Julius must, of course, dance.”

The very slight lean back into his hand at her shoulder is quite the concession to public affections, for them. “You are denying the people your grace, I understand.”

"Given her contributions as a researcher, dancing at Miss Poppell's wedding if she likes seems the very least I can do," Julius says with a smile. "I will even wear trousers, if you like." She's succeeded in getting them into his wardrobe, but for formal occasions he generally still defaults to robes for a variety of reasons. The concession is mainly to please Petrana, and that seems enough to set against the others.

Speaking of the camping: "Did I mention Derrica made me a gift of ointment meant to repel insects? A very thoughtful gesture that I had no idea would be useful quite so soon." At least they might not be eaten alive by pests.

Marcus is still considering cufflinks, seriously. Listening too, probably.

He has picked up the maybe-amethysts, wondering after their worth to him beyond matching Petra (and ostensibly Julius as well) for an evening. All of his are silver or set with glass, blacks and blues, and so picking up something different is tempting. There is an eyebrow raise at news of gifts from Derrica, but he isn't compelled to question it so much as he finds himself asking: "Is it custom, that we arrange a gift?"

The 'we' manages to come rather naturally, without also being figurative. Specifically, the three of them, attending this wedding. And, he adds, quieter, "I doubt it will be camping." Sleeping for an evening outdoors, a mere stone's throw from civilisation, doesn't sound like camping to him.

“Our future Mme de Fonce has said them unnecessary, though I think she might agree that it is very good of us to arrange the gift of Julius at the dancing,” she says, and while she doesn't look at all surprised by the mention of Derrica's gift, the fact of what it actually ended up being does merit something that suspiciously resembles a laugh.

Just a little. It's all in the corner of her mouth, and she is endeavoring to look naught but innocently admiring.

“I believe, in the case of such a wedding as this, gifts are most appropriate from closer acquaintance than we boast.”

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