The smell of food enveloped the assembled party, and Wheel lowered himself onto a coil of rope that had been pressed into service as a makeshift chair as he looked around at the other dinner guests. Both leaders had taken both ends of the table (A workbench that was similarly forced into a new role), and everyone rubbed elbows as they settled in. 

Pieter served everyone their first plate of food, setting the leftovers on a nearby barrel for anyone to take. Wheel noticed the too casual cordiality of his first mate as he placed down the shallow pewter bowls filled with steaming fish and potatoes. Something had rattled him recently, and from how long Rohaan had spent downstairs, it didn’t take much to connect the dots. 

Even still, the sense of light giddiness that had overtaken him couldn’t be shaken, and he playfully asked Millie, “Have enough room there?” 

Squeezed in between Wheel and Kaga-Met, the woman’s tentacles were curled and pressed tight against her back to leave room for the others. With a deadpan look one unfurled and stole around Wheels side, lifting away his mug and bringing it to her lips. His lips quirked as she returned it to him, replying, “Plenty.”

Kaga-Met, sitting across from Hana, had moistened a handkerchief with scented water he took from a flask and wiped his hands clean. Hana stared in a reverential shock before saying in a soft voice, “I haven’t seen anyone wash their hands in months.” The chiurgeon silently soaked the rag again and handed it to her, which she gratefully took. 

Pieter finally sat down, and glanced at Berlin with the cool look that Wheel knew as, “Well, what next?’