Need to stab. Must make sure. He don't bleed green. Blood don't lie. ...Hmph. He seems on the up an' up now, but who knows if this is but another mask over deviltry?

From beneath her wide-brimmed silver-trimmed hat, Rico glares at the corpulent blueblood. Though her mouth waters at the sumptuous feast laid before them, her usual appetite seems absent. She forces herself to eat with martial efficiency and detachment, trying to wrest the paranoia from her mind.

Paranoia? Yer not the one who got most frakked over on the Foxglove case. Ease up...

Formal etiquette might have demanded something else. Something... Vernahs. Or even nicer. Coming here, the most that she'd done was getting her coat cleaned and repaired of mudstains, crapstains, bloodstains. Oh, and replacing the sleeves that had been made into emergency bandages. And spiffing up her armour. But for anybody who might have bothered to check...
...she'd restocked with a bandolier of explosives and elixirs, as well as having forgotten to bind her weapons into their scabbards in peace-bond ties as formal warrior's etiquette might demand.

She'd be damned if she isn't prepared.

...EASE UP?! Somebody needs to keep WATCH, gorrammit.
...how could we ascertain if we don't BLEED HIM? Them. Anyone?
...Do I ask my closest comrades to bleed just for checking's sake? Why the bloody hell isn't Hellgirl getting suspicion-fever?


Every so often, Rico's teeth gnash into a bone to try and bleed off her withdrawal jitters from not having had any heavy liquor at all for over a month now. From beneath her hat's brim, she glares at Setsuna's drinking, partly from envy, partly from concern.

Ever since Xanesha's little... trick... Rico would be deluding herself if she hadn't begun looking at her comrades in a... more than friendly way.

She growls, damns the etiquette and guzzles into her bowl. Yer a gorram professional, stahp geddin' destrakted!

Spotting Red's reticence, amber eyes squint as she says over a shaking hambone, "Please. Don't. Waste. Make the most. Of what we got now. Dunno when the next storm or lean time be hittin'. Eh, hmm?"

Hmmh! Logistics. Good job, Red. Taking a long draught of goat's milk, Rico's eyes narrow as she listens silently to the crowned jowl-wagger.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Rico coughs at the others then grates, "Boat or horse, then? I votes fer boat."

Ears twitching, she rumbles at The Groby, "Can ye spare some magickal doodad that can enable instant communication, yer lordship?" Turning to the mages of the party, Rico nods at Brin and Naya then asks, "Wossit called? Sendin'? Do y'all GOT that?"