Carrying a bowl of delicious stew that had been boiling all night, Wolfram left the kitchens as quietly as he had entered, avoiding much of the morning rush. He really disliked drawing attention to himself, so like most mornings he took his lon, circuitous, and most importantly solitary route back up towards his room. Where he rounded a corner to find Brother Vernasus, clothesless and apparently covered in a rash of some sort in the process of breaking his door down with his fists. That... that would not do.<br/><br/>Shaking his head, he calmly walked up without word or expression, waited silently for Vernasus to move, and then entered, setting his bowl on a carved desk littered with books before throwing a loose sheet of cloth at Vernasus as he entered Wolfram's normally quiet quarters. Taking his own seat behind the small desk he gestured for his fellow monk to sit on the cot strung between two bookshelves against the wall in front of the desk. Finally, he broke his silence.<br/><br/>"Now. What seems to be the problem?"