<b>[Bjorntheim]</b><br/><br/>Eira scooped her pack back up to her shoulder and fell into step behind the engineer -- through the garage, down the hall, second door on the left, her booted heels heavy with weariness, perhaps suggesting another reason for her visit. There in the kitchen she once more unlimbered the pack, though this time to draw forth a stoppered hand-keg and set it down on the table.<span style="color: magenta">"That,"</span>she told him, with a pointed look at the liquor,<span style="color: magenta">"is delicious. Sweet as a midsummer evening's breeze, Horgar. I <i>had</i> to bring you some."</span><br/><br/>While Horgar peeled off his toolbelt and contemplated his pantry, Eira made herself comfortable -- unclasping her cloak from her collar and loosening the fastenings of her armor enough to shrug off the upper layer, the plate cuirass. Leaving it in an unceremonious pile on the floor beside her leg, she sat, and pillowed her head on a forearm to watch him.<span style="color: magenta">"So are you going to tell me what you've been working on, or must I guess? Surely you're not wasting your talents making signs, these days."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>