[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/01989c3a-cdd4-7239-bbf7-969d978789bc.webp[/img][/center] [hr][center][color=298e25]Location[/color]: The Feasting Hall, Strange Academy [color=298e25]Grimoire[/color]: [color=298e25]Skills[/color]: [url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/d6/67/d6/d667d6aff85379764e1832ae3b61dde8.jpg]Current Outfit[/url] [/center] [hr][hr] Rohan didn't eat much, not in the way most people did. For him, food was just that, [i]food.[/i] Sustenance, fuel in the proverbial furnace, something done for survival. Dinners were a social construct, gatherings that were often more about connecting and touching base than actually tending to one's needs. The irony was that the food was so rarely the [i]point[/i] of dinner. If he was hungry, he ate something. Food was just food, but sometimes, people need [i]something[/i] to spice up their life and give it purpose. But it was time for dinner, and people that were relevant to him were around, so Rohan came back a few hours later after meeting Connie in here briefly. He didn't pay much mind to the extravagant, fanciful, and frankly tacky decor. He was familiar with the place, well enough to just grab a seat somewhere and sit down. A light volume of wellington and some risotto appeared on his plate. His goblet was filled with black coffee. Rohan elected to sit somewhere away from the babbling wild magician he heard some catty gossip about. A whole table away, in fact. He looked around for anyone he happened to know. He saw that Cassie girl he was sharing a room with. But not Annika, or Connie, or anyone else in his Coven. Not yet, at least. He took a long, contemplative sip of his drink. This whole building was probably getting set on fire, or worse, before the end of the hour.