Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
I give a deep chuckle as she talks of mixing the ruined batches in with the good stuff to serve to those already drunk. Honestly, I don't blame her for it, though I make a mental note not to get so shitfaced that I lose my tastebuds in here. Not being a big (alcohol) drinker, that shouldn't be a problem, but one never knew.
"Secret's safe with me," I bow my head in a quick nod, a cheeky grin on my face. "Keeping notes is an excellent practice," I gesture to the ones she has written herself with brewing times, as well as the ones she relies on for her knowledge. "It's almost a way of immortalising not just your craft, but yourself as well." I wasn't usually so prone to such philosophical, artistic interpretations, but it felt oddly right to observe here, given she was using a book left by an old friend who evidently wasn't present anymore.
"Need a hand with anything else for today?" I ask, glancing at the spider, the new mascot of the Kraai, before returning my gaze to Weaver, awaiting her instructions.
"Secret's safe with me," I bow my head in a quick nod, a cheeky grin on my face. "Keeping notes is an excellent practice," I gesture to the ones she has written herself with brewing times, as well as the ones she relies on for her knowledge. "It's almost a way of immortalising not just your craft, but yourself as well." I wasn't usually so prone to such philosophical, artistic interpretations, but it felt oddly right to observe here, given she was using a book left by an old friend who evidently wasn't present anymore.
"Need a hand with anything else for today?" I ask, glancing at the spider, the new mascot of the Kraai, before returning my gaze to Weaver, awaiting her instructions.
CHULANE
