food in the woodsen

Zavien

Strike hands with me. The glass is brim.
The dew is on the heather.

Zavien's already four beers in by the time he starts to feel the effects. He's not usually much of a drinker, so it sneaks up on him, a slight haze coming over her thoughts. His eyes and speech are still clear despite the feeling that loosens the tension in his shoulders. It doesn't help with the ache of his heart yet, but at least it makes him a little bolder, the anxieties losing some of their hold on him. 

He turns to Koa, his eyes narrowed in concentration, like he's trying to puzzle something out - or read. Taking a sip of his beer, he nods his head decisively. "Koa. You're a good friend. We need to find you a good girl." He already has something in mind, an image of a sweet, kind soul who can calm the Dragoon's energy enough to keep him from having to put his foot in his mouth as often. Someone smart and pretty, but with a good sense of humor so they can laugh together. Someone as passionate about the greater good as he is. 

But that's what Zavien thinks Koa needs. And what he needs isn't always what he might want, so he doesn't hesitate to ask, "What's your type?" He doesn't mention that he knows Flora is his type, quite certain that's a topic they should avoid like the plague. Instead, he sits silently, sipping on his beer.

And love is good, and life is long,
and friends are best together.