There were four tables total; two were joined at the end, and the other two, the same. From above, the arrangement looked like an equal sign. But the boisterousness levels between the two rows were far from equal. Alfhid, Kri, Ber, Ragna, and Fiske occupied the first row. And they were loud in laughter, causing Kole (his back was to them) to turn around to see what the fuss was all about. It looked like Fiske had just awoken, the pillow creases still fresh upon his face. Only they looked more like inscriptions upon a narrower-eyed inspection, as confirmed by Ragnarok. Kole still found it remarkable that her speech sounded immaculate despite the scar slanting across her lip. A formidable master linguist, for sure. "Yehehee! That what ye get for wakin' up late, Friske! And there ye go, Captain's ribs be achin' -- somethin' for ye to examine if ye so eager. And wha-? No way, Doc, compooters over-ated. Methinks yer… tattooin' yeself a brilliant ideea!"<br/><br/>Kole returned his attention to his table mates. A much quieter bunch. There was Johan who seemed hesitant in answering his queries about potential anomalous spots in the star charts. Like whirlpools to be avoided in a literal stream. Maybe the Navigator was just being cautious. After all, what would a cook do with such information? Hoping to catch some sort of star fish in those eddies? Still, Kole felt Johan was overall avoidant of him, and this current reticence was not just any isolated situation. "Hey, Syr Johan, ye never tole me yet what be yer fayvoorite dish, eh?" The civilian was determined to break the ice with the primary officer. Or maybe he was just trying to figure out if it was something else but the food? His pride wouldn't allow him to accept that someone could be just lukewarm, so-so, to his culinary creations.<br/><br/>Then there was Gunnar, a brooding trigger-happy gold-bearded ship gunner whose grey eyes always seemed gazing at some distant target, not paying attention to his spoon missing his lip and splashing nettle soup on his beard. Yeah, he wasn't much for conversation, either. Although he often missed the target that was his mouth, Gunnar was actually a good shot when it came to sniping from afar.<br/><br/>And then there was Isa, the quietest and also the most diligent. Kole could relate to the Jack Rabbit of All Trades in that he wasn't particularly skilled in areas crucial to a ship's function. A technical officer -- such as the excellent Ber -- with secondary or even a barely passable cooking ability had the superior qualifications. Fortunately, the Captain Alfalfa must have seen something in him the day she visited his family's diner. Kole wanted to join one of the independent Viking ships, to explore the stars, to... to...<span style="font-weight: bold">to find a more permanent home for his people</span>. Before The Village should reach its capacity. Population growth tended to become exponential especially when having many children was encouraged to ensure survival. Speaking of which, if one had been lucky enough to pass by the kitchen, they might have heard Kole singing a variation of one of his favourite leitmotifs:<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic">Little town, ye're quite a Village <a class="postlink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVkbMeA1eV0">♪</a><br/>Ev'ry day<br/>Adding one more<br/>Light at dawn<br/>Full of little wee ones<br/>Wakin' up to na'es<br/>Bjorn! Balder! Bjork! Borghild! Bergljot!</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">There be goin' the baker with his tray, like always ♫<br/>The same ole bread and stew to sell <br/>Ev'ry mornin' be the same <br/>Since the morning that we came <br/>To Parra Savva's Valdo'n</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The baguettes!</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I need six </span>egg<span style="font-style: italic">s!</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Ye call this bakin'?<br/><br/>What lovely grapes!</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Some cheese</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">There must be more than this provincial life! ♫<a class="postlink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVkbMeA1eV0">♪</a></span></div><br/><br/>Kole smiled at Isa, almost apologetically. With the current table placements, no seat offered a vantage point where she could view everyone's faces; some would have their backs to her. Unless... the tables were arranged so everyone can face each other? Circular was ideal, but the mess hall doubled as a social hub and needed to remain versatile for auditorium and dance and music hall layouts. So a large rectangle would do. Four -- the most senior officers -- would sit at the widths, and then up to six of the remaining crew on each side of the lengths. But how to introduce it discreetly? Kole pondered. Whose birthday was coming up? Ah. That would be the opportune time to rearrange the tables into one big rectangle. And then be lazy in reverting.<br/><br/>In the meantime, while listening to the Captain and the gang behind him talk aloud, Kole relayed the stories by sign language for Isa's benefit. Rolling his powder blue eyes deliberately in all gyroscopic directions while swiveling his head all around to denote the drunkenness; clanking his fork and spoon in a subdued manner to convey the sparring between Captain and First Mate. Tossing some kale and alfalfa, while wooshing with his mouth to portray a blazing campfire. Raising his shoulders and hunching his back to picture Kreep and his heavy collar. However, Kole left out the ominous parts…<span style="font-style: italic">A shame peace like this can't last forever, isn't it?... Maybe it's the smell of battle drawing near. … </span><br/><br/>Kole adjusted the beret on his forehead with the back of his left hand, smiled, a little more solemnly this time, and forked a cube of Cantelope into his mouth.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I don't know, and I don't care. All I know, is that I intent to be drunk by eight at night.</span><br/><br/>Kole remembered his wine-making scheme. The liquor supply was depleting faster than it could be replenished. Surely Kri would authorize such a... stout cause? Well, Kole must first revisit with Johan at dinner to determine the plausibility of storing wine where time aged faster. And dinner time was just about perfect. Kri would be drunk by then.