<div class="floatleft">(http://orig00.deviantart.net/065f/f/2017/187/5/9/august01_by_ravagedgirl-dbfdsq3.jpg)<br/><em><sup><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">Location: Lone table<br/>Company: Elora<br/>Approachability: Open for now.</span></sup></em></div><br/><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>He nodded. There was a certain element of stigma that his chosen profession would draw, naturally. Risk-taking, doing the roughest and probably most dangerous tasks available out there, except for joining a military force--you had to wonder if they were nuts, arrogant or masochistic in some way. August would like to think it was for the money, but the longer it went on, the more he questioned it. Was it more about the goal, or more about the work to get there?<strong>"It's not a healthy career for most people. I reckon I fell into the role at some point, and promptly forgot about trying to climb out."</strong>A small smile graced his features, but that was it for the topic.<br/><br/>With regards to the second statement, which he noted as remarkably familiar advice, August at first said nothing. Giving the man an appraising look, adjusting his glasses, and continuing to eat. Swallowing, and then answering,<strong>"It's advice that I have been told before. On my better days, I heed it to the best of my ability, but I hardly balance it well. We'll see perhaps, one day, Mister Seville."</strong>Didn't know what day that would be, but he doubted it would come anytime soon. He was stepping into some shoes that some of his crew and associates thought he couldn't fill, and these days all that mattered was proving them wrong. August felt that despite not looking like much, he could carry his weight just the same as anyone else. It was that same drive that made him work like this.<br/><br/>Although as the shortcoming--which Warren had just described--of this work would show, it left him deficient in other areas. He was finishing off the last of the bread and opening his book once more for a glance, when the other man mentioned that he'd attracted attention.  August blinked, looked up, eyebrows furrowed as if this was the last thing he'd expected, and spoke like it too with a<em><strong>"What?"</strong></em>that defied<em>all</em>of the composure he'd displayed thus far as Warren began to walk away. He was caught off guard in unfamiliar social territory, and doubly so when it came to the opposite sex.<br/><br/>She came over with a light step, almost playful, in a way that made her bust bounce, threatening to spill from her top. The young mage had a sudden, distinct awareness of this and valiantly kept his eyes from roaming the way that most people would have gleefully allowed. There was a...process of etiquette he typically tried his best to follow, even for those who did not reciprocate, and here was no exception. While he could maintain that air of respect, it came at the cost of context. August didn't read into the situation, nor the things Warren may have been referring to,<em>nor</em>the coquettish glint in Elora's eye... All he knew was that an exceptionally well-endowed woman had chosen to come to a table he occupied and take a seat as if she knew she belonged.<br/><br/>He lacked the willpower to say anything about it.<br/><br/>August shifted in his seat, awkwardly, as she set a foot on his knee. Her approach had taken him off guard, but he was gathering composure.<strong>"It's a book...for potions. Things I need to brew. Ingredients I'll have to gather somewhere or buy..."</strong>He told her the same things he had told Warren, in a more frozen state. He hadn't moved her foot away, didn't bite at his bread, didn't look at the book at all.