So Vargas was gone, a moment Skarsat had been looking forward to since he had been given the answer he had waited for. It was at this exact point of time however that the Tork man also realized how foolish a thought it had been to believe that this would actually make things so much better in the room. A little more air to breath, yes, but otherwise ? The others were free to spread their verbal wings even further! And by 'others' Skarsat primarily had the women in mind. Maréngo seemed okay so far and given his body he probably was an able fighter, but he could not see much of his qualities in the other persons so far, except for Nora perhaps whose attitude he had already been able to witness.

Another slight detail that only now started to burn itself into his mind was how [i]some[/i] people here had been touching each other... A more than professional relationship between employer and employees did not have to end in jeopardy per se, but this time there was a lot of coin on the table. Skarsat had to suppress the inner urge to envision some kind of betrayal just because somebody 'loved' somebody else more than the others...

He stepped forward towards the table where Solange had poured him some wine, the wooden floorboards protesting against his weight with quite loud noises. In his calloused hand the wine glass almost seemed a little fragile, but it turned out it would not have to stay in that precarious place for long as Skarsat apparently followed a 'taste doesn't matter as long as you're fast'-approach. He craned his neck as if wanting to take a look at the ceiling that already was close to his scalp, but in fact he only wanted to use his face and beard as a means to catch any droplets of wine that would inevitably escape their death march out of the glass and into his throat. Also, of course, gravity was always useful when pouring things.

And yet anybody who paid attention at the right moment would be able to see how his neck winced, thick veins bulging on its skin as some reflex desperately tried to override Skarsat's sheer will and to stop the influx of red fluid. That stuff was way too fruity! He needed something to fix this... wasn't there some considerable lot of pheasant around here ? Skarsat reached for a part of it with bare hands, separting it from the remainder with one swift move and guiding it to his mouth before too much liquid could come out of it and fall to the ground. Tork people were not the most mannered bunch from an Eastener's point of view in general perhaps, but when the need to eat was so urgent in order to wash away something else all other priorities receded!

It was only after the first two bites that Skarsat dared to look for something like a plate and he also squeezed himself into the empty chair, continuing to eat. His response to Y'Vannas concerns about their capability to chew was the loud sound of his chewing. At least physically it seemed he could chew a lot, but in the metaphorical sense that was in question for this whole endeavour ? That was an entirely different matter still to be investigated...