Location: The Crossed Swords, Free Show.
Interacting with: Kyra.
Thomas was relieved, his recovery, albeit not so great, didn't seem to infuriate Kyra. Then again for a boy brought up in a small time community and later a wizard's estate, freedom of information was a given. Pooled knowledge and all, very few would think to have been so malicious with such information, and even so the most secret of all things often had a price to be paid. One's sanity was usually the price to read from some of the books Master Wolfgang had collected, tempting as they were left open in his collection. They weren't worth the trouble of warding off, and frankly anyone who wants them can take them, he's had them far too long to be concerned about keeping them. Maybe he's even taken a peek or two which may explain why he was a bit... Off. Even for wizard standards.
"Is the dwarf joining our company Kyra?" A mention of the dwarf seeming to introduce himself to Satilla. Somewhat of a bad taste in all that set up. Maybe Kyra's distrust was rubbing off on him, or maybe he didn't appreciate the dwarf trying to give unsolicited advice just moments after the table smashing episode. Thomas really should have any qualms with the shorter man, but still, something was not quite sitting well with him watching that dwarf saunter up to Satilla. First Thomas, now Satilla? earlier Ntaj too wasn't it? Pretty sure the dwarf was either really trying to cut some hair, or get in bed with this group. Figuratively that is.
Then the 8 o'clock bell rang.
Wait, that was no bell.
And certainly not noble.
Rather, a chamber pot.
"Hextor's Burning Eyes!" Thomas exclaimed, an expression amongst wizards as an in joke within the class similiarly to 'Bigby's Flipping Bird'. What has been seen cannot be unseen. Although perhaps some memory changing magics may be powerful enough to erase the image of Keystone's half-moon, those magics were often unreliable at best, and a squidy-braineater wouldn't be too keen on sparing the mind. Still though, his scars and upper body did tell a story, one Thomas was almost curious to find out, if the man wasn't so crass about his chamber pot activities. Hardly culturally acceptable, although then again neither is pelting people with pieces of pumpernickel.
Thomas looked away and settled on sitting down, not quite speaking a word of what just happened. And this was something he didn't need to talk about, taking his chair and looking at those runny eggs. Did the chef from last night up and died or something?
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