Two Eyes Cenote is that it? are you not allowed to talk?

stark's throat works to release the breath held captive in it, gaze soft and awespun as he looks 'round once more and finds her gaze steady on him; struggling to push back the instinct to divert it. out of the natural hierarchy of rank he is used to despite that those laws don't seem to necessarily apply here and for the soft heat rising in his cheeks.

eset. he repeats her name decisively, trying to shrug off the lingering doubt that it was too informal.

he gives a soft clear of his throat and studies the rich drink and food. would you care to join me? he asks, hesitantly, unsure if it was impolite to ask such things or not. with any luck, he would learn the do's and don't's of his new culture sooner rather than later.