[Biltong]
“You look as though you can use some refreshments, Mr. Sebek.” The merman invites himself to the younger’s side, of which he finds curious that the other is alone. “I assume there is no sight of Mr. Malleus here?”
Admittedly, there is little sight of any of Briar Valley’s nobility here. Sebek’s appearance is a rare opportunity, no matter how much of a livewire the young fae could be. Azul invites a plate of biltong to the taller student, “Have you tried these, by any chance? The meat that the Savanaclaw students brought are most curious: Ostriches, wildebeests, kudus— Why, I even heard there was crocodile meat in the assortment, too!”
What awful timing, Sebek thinks, standing off to the side of the dining hall awkwardly as other students mingle about the room. He had been tasked with delivering Diasomnia's offering for the potluck, carrying under his arms the hotchpotch of ingredients the dorm had managed to assemble at the very last moment. Lacking a direct recipe to follow, the resulting concoction seemed less than appealing at first glance, and ever more so after taking an initial sip.
With plans superior than attending this event, Sebek pours the remaining liquid from his cup into the trash before departing. Or so he thinks. He hadn't noticed how time had slipped away from him, other dorms setting up their food for the potluck and attendees swarming the exit. To leave now would just look more awkward on his part, and so he find a little bubble of space distanced from the event. Partially zoned out, Sebek stares off into space, reviewing the magical calculations in his head that he had been studying before this.
He nearly jumps out of his skin, approached by the housewarden of Octavinelle. "N-no! Just me for the moment. I assembled the punch for the Young Master."
The half-fae listens, attention split between the words that leave Azul's lips and the mouth-watering smells wafting from the plate of meat the other holds. Even with his distaste for one resident of the grassland's dorm, Sebek cannot deny how delicious the food looks, especially for his empty stomach. He's certain he could devour ten plates of the stuff, if such quantities had been available.
"Don't mind if I do," he reaches forward, picking up one of the toothpicks stabbed into the meat, hoping he's avoided the crocodile. He hums a little as the taste hits his tongue, already eager to try another before he's chewed the first.
"Not going to eat any yourself?" questions Sebek, fiddling with the toothpicks he's accrued between his fingers.