Brother Valetni quietly slips in, not wanting to disturb anyone. He quietly walks over to the table, unnoticed by his brother, fixated on the huge man as they were, and draws out a chair for himself. Slipping a hand into his habit, he withdraws a white, powdery substance which he inconspicuously sprinkles into his goblet of mead, he does the same with the soup, mixing it with a spoon.<br/><br/>Quietly, and without engaging anyone in conversation, he begins his evening meals. It is better this way, without talking to anyone he could finish faster, and the faster he finished, the quicker he got back to the ducks, and cleaning. A small smile tugs at his lips, efficiency, the one thing he loved nearly as much as cleanliness, and nearly as unattainable.