Jigano managed a short hum of agreement, bemused at how almost chipper Lucas seemed after all the blood and death and terror of the week. He truly must be more newly arrived than most, to have missed the frantic last-minute preparations and stress... or perhaps he simply handled it better than most. The bard included. And while once that thought might have prickled his pride to put on a better show, for the moment it was all he could do to manage - admittedly, poorly - his half of a simple conversation.
"Not officially, no," he admitted, echoing Lucas's thoughts. "I was... training here, though. With the doctor... with Isla. But... she is missing. And my friends are here. And so I... I am trying to help, at least a little bit." Not one of his finer explanations, but speaking of Isla when her fate and whereabouts were still unknown to him did nothing to steady his fractured poise. He took a breath, even as he passed the man another strip of clean cloth. "My work mostly occurs at the Atheneum, where I undertake research. Though I also ply my trade as a bard at the Rathskeller a few nights a week. It pays better... at least for terms of barter and trade."
The return question had him shaking his head, a faint frown furrowing his brow. "No, nothing even close. I would say the seasons on my world were 'normal' but I've had to reevaluate that since coming here. But the northlands had long winters that shifted slowly into kind springs, short summers, and wet autumns. There was overlap between them, though, while the only transition I've seen here was very much abrupt and overnight." He hesitated, then raised a brow at his companion, old habits coaxing his tongue down familiar roads. "And what was your world like? Not just the seasons... I'm curious about the sorts of places different outlanders have come from."
"Not officially, no," he admitted, echoing Lucas's thoughts. "I was... training here, though. With the doctor... with Isla. But... she is missing. And my friends are here. And so I... I am trying to help, at least a little bit." Not one of his finer explanations, but speaking of Isla when her fate and whereabouts were still unknown to him did nothing to steady his fractured poise. He took a breath, even as he passed the man another strip of clean cloth. "My work mostly occurs at the Atheneum, where I undertake research. Though I also ply my trade as a bard at the Rathskeller a few nights a week. It pays better... at least for terms of barter and trade."
The return question had him shaking his head, a faint frown furrowing his brow. "No, nothing even close. I would say the seasons on my world were 'normal' but I've had to reevaluate that since coming here. But the northlands had long winters that shifted slowly into kind springs, short summers, and wet autumns. There was overlap between them, though, while the only transition I've seen here was very much abrupt and overnight." He hesitated, then raised a brow at his companion, old habits coaxing his tongue down familiar roads. "And what was your world like? Not just the seasons... I'm curious about the sorts of places different outlanders have come from."
