As much as she liked the idea of sitting with Théadan and watching the sun rise together, Navia was grateful their conversation moved on before she had to agree to it. She wanted to feel better before that happened; she didn’t want Théadan to worry about her. Instead of fretting about that though, or feeling guilty that she continued to hide something from him even if it was something she considered small, Navia focused on how interested Théadan was in having dinner with the captain. She wasn’t surprised he wanted to; she had expected as much from him. Even if it wasn’t likely to be an interesting conversation and slightly better food than what they’d been eating, Théadan would have gone to be a gracious and thoughtful guest. That he not only wanted to have dinner with the captain, but converse with others on the ship that were not her warmed Navia.<br/><br/>With that agreed upon, Navia had begun to return her attention to the beautiful view laid out before them when Théadan mulled over how to say the captain’s name. “You said it correctly the first time,” she answered patiently with a small smile, not wanting to tease him for trying so many different ways when it would be easy to do so. To reassure him and hopefully to wipe the uncertainty from his expression, Navia’s hand rose up between them to gently hold his cheek and keep him in place so she could press her lips warmly to his own. It was a brief, soft kiss, and Navia looked back out at the ocean afterward.<br/><br/>“There are a couple things you should keep in mind when we have meals with others in Khlurios,” Navia curled her legs up while she spoke, allowing them to rest against Théadan’s thigh, “First, you’ll never hear the captain say my name. Most common Khluri stringently follow the custom that it’s highly frowned upon to use anything but a royal’s title. It wouldn’t matter if I insisted a dozen times or that everyone on this ship probably knows my name, he’ll still call me<i>Sitvati</i>, so if you hear that, it just means Duchess.” It was instilled in the culture to hold royalty up in the highest regard, something Navia could not fix but had a feeling one from a less hierarchal country like Mes’Mo’Tan might struggle to understand.<br/><br/>“Hmmm…It’s considered rude to push your plate away from you at any point in the meal,” Navia warned, glancing in Théadan’s direction, “It’s a sign you didn’t like the meal and offensive to your host.” That one was trivial, and Navia hummed softly while trying to think if there were any more important customs Théadan should know when having a meal with people from her country. While she tried to sift through her mind, something glinted on the horizon, catching her attention more than the question had. “We also sit and rise according to status,” Navia explained while the ship moved closer, allowing something floating in the water to come near, “So the uh…the noblest or most royal person sits first, then it goes in order from there. Most of our customs have to do with showing status…Théadan, what is that?” She dropped their conversation for the time being to point out the high peak of glossy, jagged white sticking out of the water and slightly rocking as the waves passed. “I asked one of the sailors yesterday, but all he said was that it was dangerous. I haven’t seen many, but they’re so strange…and yet pretty at the same time.” Pausing, leaning in to conspiratorially whisper to him even though no one was paying them any mind, Navia’s expression turned impish, “They always remind me of that furnace room in Nygaard when I see them.”