I will still be here, stargazing
The war certainly did a lot to unsettle the usual lay of things, and Iskra should have guessed as much, more or less avoiding even that struggle, loath as he is to admit it now. He sips more eagerly at his drink to drown some of that shame, trying to hide his ignorance with a polite smile. "Turbulent times," he adds as if that summarizes it well enough, and shrugs, suspecting there is little that can stay the same when the world is upended, leaders least of all.
Sunjata's laugh is bold and Iskra's smile falters for a moment before deepening. "Seems you've nothing to worry about then," and maybe less reason for Iskra to muddy the scene by prodding the Forsaken. He's not the most tactful, leading charges quite obviously and loudly, so he doesn't have much faith he could suss anything out of Noah without it being obvious.
Unsurprised to hear Sunjata's reason, Iskra's attention is drawn towards the doodle that Mel is diligently working on. His cheek pinches in on one side with a smirk at the design, leaning his shoulder against hers and tapping with a pinky finger on the napkin as he whispers that she should draw comically large and angry eyebrows too. Leaving her to her own artistry, note taken or not, he slouches deeper into his chair. "Gods, I'm stuffed," he groans delightfully, one palm smoothing down the front of his shirt. "I think we did quite a number on the food tonight." As sorely as he'd like to finish his drink, each sip is reminding him of just how out of room he is.
Sunjata's laugh is bold and Iskra's smile falters for a moment before deepening. "Seems you've nothing to worry about then," and maybe less reason for Iskra to muddy the scene by prodding the Forsaken. He's not the most tactful, leading charges quite obviously and loudly, so he doesn't have much faith he could suss anything out of Noah without it being obvious.
Unsurprised to hear Sunjata's reason, Iskra's attention is drawn towards the doodle that Mel is diligently working on. His cheek pinches in on one side with a smirk at the design, leaning his shoulder against hers and tapping with a pinky finger on the napkin as he whispers that she should draw comically large and angry eyebrows too. Leaving her to her own artistry, note taken or not, he slouches deeper into his chair. "Gods, I'm stuffed," he groans delightfully, one palm smoothing down the front of his shirt. "I think we did quite a number on the food tonight." As sorely as he'd like to finish his drink, each sip is reminding him of just how out of room he is.
Iskra
