(SE) eyes covered with ink and bleach

It was a relief to hear that Maea had been telling the truth, though that wasn’t a reason to relax. All the confirmation meant was that he had something to negotiate for. He tracked the booze out of the corner of his eye, but kept his attention on the man pouring it. The questions were ones he’d been prepared for to some extent. Hell, they were ones he’d answered in almost every town he’d flown to back home. His expression sobered slightly, but his smile didn’t truly leave. “Manual labor, mostly. Have experience with a bit of everythin’ from roof repairs to bringin’ in the harvest.” He picked up the glass, finally, looking down at what he’d been poured. “I’ve done transcription work as well, mostly personal correspondence and stock records.” And, of course, creating written copies of oral stories, but those were more for himself than something he got paid for. He saluted Sunjata with the glass and brought it to his lips, tilting his head back to take a healthy swig. The burn of good alcohol was familiar, even if the flavor hitting his tongue was definitely different.