"Right." She was confident. Kelvin made a mental note of her name, shoving it back in the empty 'name-to-face-connections' filing cabinet that sat at the back of his mind. He turned in his seat to get a better look at the guild master to properly see the exchange. Calmly, he sipped the soup in one hand. "Maybe he wasn't destined to be a chef, but you can't really call him lousy. Last months bread had a hardness that only a master could dream of achieving." Kelvin, still flat faced, raised a solemn toast with the bowl of soup and then drained it before standing up to stretch. He was still sore, but it couldn't be helped. Kelvin leaned back against the counter and looked at the offer intently. It wasn't the offer itself, it was just what it represented. For two years he had done little more than work and travel as much as possible. 
Now days he had come to wonder if it really mattered. The old man would get his field plowed eventually. And sure, he wasn't rich. But with no apartment bill, savings built at a decent rate. What really was he looking for in life though? Just another job? His stare could have burnt a hole in the piece of parchment.