<span style="font-size: 15px">The elf's olive eyes rose to see the lithe figure enter the tent, greeting as warmly as he could muster before a combination of Osran's behavior and the ringleader's voice pushed him to the sidelines. He eventually gravitated towards the fire eater, though the look on the man's face told Kevice he was only half willing as a second to last resort. All the same, the tanned elf gave him a grin after stabbing his fork into a chunk of meat on his plate.<br/>
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"It's not a surprise if your only other option was to pout and whine in your room. Not really hard to find someone like you anyway, don't go out too much do you?" He took a moment to take a bite, eyes going back to lurking on the troupe interactions. "He'd put you in chains I bet if you did. See, I can wander off all night no problem, but I'm not on many posters am I?" The metal of his fork clacked against the edge of the plate near obnoxiously, and when he wasn't doing that, his leg jumped as if he was anxious, or just that bored. "Vasyliii." The noble elf's name came out as a trill, "You should take walks sometimes, towns not that far off, what do you spend your big share of the income on anyway? Candy for the little one?"<br/>
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Kevice wasn't really all that keen on developing strong relationships, but company was still fun, especially if he was also spending his time pulling someone out of their comfort zone.He figured Vasyli wasn't a complete stranger to life at night, just as many years as he had on him, and well.. he was here at the circus after all. But a chin that high and an attitude so tight, there was no way he enjoyed it.<br/>
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The nymph across the room by now had started up small conversations with the ohers, light hearted, her grasp on common tongue had improved over the years so that the hulking minotaur didn't have to open his mouth to translate a lot of her chirping and various chattery noises. It seemed to please Rakkurat, both that he could just mind his own and that his partner seemed to get along better with the various personalities of the Bazaar. Even for conversations though, they were pretty limited, and she mostly took the spot of responding in pleased tones and small laughs as others added context and stories.<br/>
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Mathis also seemed to leave without causing too big of a stir, though he did give Osran a look when spoken to, one of disappointment and restraint, this continued in a glance at Vasyli across the room, before he said his farewells and final motivational words and left. He likely didn't feel like starting any confrontation, at least not during dinner when everyone else was winding down. He was a strict man, but knew what course of action best benefitted team morale. Who was to say if he'd come back later in the evening to scold his starring roles though?<br/>
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He'd cleared most his plate, head resting lazily in the palm of his soot tatted hand. "You've been friendly lately, by the by. S'because you just don't like anyone trying to yank you? Or are you just dying to like someone around here? I mean..." Kevice let out a fake sigh, reeking of sarcasm, "If I must, call you my best mate, make forts out of your bedsheets and talk about how dumb and smelly the humans are..." the look on his face was pained, saddened, all an act, and a poorly exaggerated one at that, "Guess I might as well pack up and move in with you, s'best I can do."<br/>
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Kevice himself didn't have much of an issue with humans themselves, but he was old enough to conceptualize Vasyli's distaste for them. They didn't live long, so they were often experienced. But the part where Kevice was better at talking to Osran than the noble elf was that he himself wasn't that old either for a half-elf. And, well, he grew up in a predominately human undercity as it was. His mother was a sun elf in particular, as someone like Osran would call them, though Kevice didn't have much of a grasp on his own heritage. Mathis enjoyed dressing him up like one, eastern folk, fans of promiscuous dens and gambling and bartering mere potatoes for expensive silks. He assumed the romanticized version that Mathis projected onto him was just a product of regurgitated rumor though, but Kevice didn't have the experience to argue.<br/>
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And, well, it seemed to please the small crowds he got too, if he seemed somehow more exotic than a man covered head to toe in ashy tattoos and laughing faces of tongues and tusks.<br/>
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He eventually stood to dump his plate in the bin, taking a moment to do banter with the chef, a short dwarf with his beard tied down and an apron cut to fit. "We don't got any alcohol, the man doesn't allow it! And if ye keep asking you'll find yourself with him breaking down your door again with a crop!" The dwarf had raised his voice at him for mumbling playful requests for some form of liquor as he often did, prompting Kevice to wave his hand in a dismissive manner, shrugging it off as a joke before retiring for the night.<br/>
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As the half-elf neared one of the lone stalls near the bed tents, small facilities with plumbing meant to accomodate fairgrounds and circus venues like theirs, he undressed to rinse off and wash any of the particularly unclean areas with a cheap, plain chunk of soap, being sure to conserve. He wondered if the higher ups like Vasyli had wine or something at their disposal, or if Mathis just kept everyone from drinking on site. The only times they brought out any poison was a bit of ale for particularly lofty celebrations or sparse times of ease. Kevice gargled up whatever was left of the taste of today's routine out of his throat post-meal, drying off and slipping back on his clothes, tying his bottoms around the waist. He was refreshed, awake, did he ever sleep anyway? But he wanted to check somewhere first...<br/>
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He only stopped by his own bed-- a hammock with a bunch of old pillows scattered in and around it, to drop off his towel and put on a coat, actual clothes and proper shoes. Save for the coat it was still breezy, loose, nothing terribly fancy, but not a mess of off-whites and mottled beige. The inner lining of his coat had pockets just large enough for change and gods only knew. And before he went anywhere near the fences, he traveled across the grounds to a small, neatly set up tent, Vasyli's quarters in particular, who was set apart from others and rested mostly alone from what he gathered. It was good though, unless anyone else got to bugging him first, Kevice would be the only one here. He slumped over with that sub-par posture of his and pulled the corner of the tent aside to peek in with a curious "Knock knock?"</span>