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Table 11

Isaiah's eyebrows raised and he laughed. "You bite, huh? I'll keep that in mind." He watched as she plucked a grape from the bunch on his plate, completely amused by how forward she was about stealing his food.

He stabbed a bit of meat onto his fork, resisted the urge to groan as he chewed. Once he had swallowed, he examined the beach ball again.

"What's the best gift you've ever received?"

Table 4

Surprisingly, he had to agree with Gretta. A bunch of really nice people lured to a fantasy boot camp in Michigan.

He wondered where all the cameras were hiding.

"Nice to hear everyone's good even though this place is weird." Zan held up his fork, examining the chicken he'd stabbed. "I'm starting to think I came here for the food because this is just delicious. But I'm sure once we get to fighting dragons and receiving more spooky messages from the gods, I'll remember my purpose or something." He smiled. "It is very lovely to meet all three of you."

Introductions made, he lowered his eyes to his plate and gave it about sixty percent of his attention, waiting for someone to take up the reins of conversation. He only hoped no one threw a beach ball at him.

Table 5

Butterfly? Marisol wondered at the nickname she had been bestowed with. While she had no idea how he'd arrived at such, she couldn't say she was displeased. There were far worse things to be called after all.

"Welcome, Cas," she raised her glass in greeting and smiled warmly. With a wink she looked at Rose, "We are all quite stunning."

She considered the question Rasmus presented, "A long trek would likely be less exhausting than hours and hours of ballet rehearsal," she chuckled. Not to mention all the mental gymnastics of planning and executing a con.

Table 8

"I'd live in Seattle." It came seriously, with full enthusiasm behind it. The flirting comment far over his head; maybe he wasn't sure who Mal meant. "I mean, other than the weather, it seems like a pretty chill city. I should at least go visit and spend a while there, see if I like it. But even against the legal pot, I'm pretty sure it'd be back to New York in the end..."

Table 8

Mal noticed Ewan's flick of eyes and -- wondered. Maybe it was a Zeus chosen thing, except. "Pot should be legal, in small amounts." In non-selling amounts, Mal had no problem with pot. Hell, he'd rather deal with a pothead than a drunk any day of the week.

He'd rather deal with a herd of potheads than one cheerleader on PCP, in fact. A herd of potheads was like a herd of cats. Annoying, irritating, but not handy enough to cause anything but mild to moderate headaches.

"Who's turn is it for the beach ball of conversational gambits?"

Diryas shot Zebulon a look when he heard him snort, knowing full well why it was happening. He'd also tried to return the friendly smile from Zan before contemplating his own food carefully. He wasn't a bad cook, really, but this food put any of his to shame, and he wasn't upset at all by that. Diryas was quite content to sample a wide variety of what he found on the table.

He wasn't going to throw the beach ball at anyone, eyeing it with a degree of wariness himself, but he did figure that the introductions thus far were not going to be sufficient. "What did you do? Before..." Diryas gestured with his free hand to the room around them, looking to Zan and Gretta in particular. After all, he already knew what Zebulon did before the summons.

He wasn't looking to volunteer his life's story to virtual strangers, but if they were going to be expected to work together, as he assumed they likely would, he also didn't want any surprises. Good idea to know where strengths might lay, right?

"My luck, then," Cas said with a wolfish grin as he took a seat beside Rose and nodded his greetings to Rasmus and Marisol. "I've stumbled across the most delightful table in the room. Makes me feel all the worse for missing out on the first part of the built-in icebreakers."

The delicious smells of well-made food wafted toward him from the plates, but he waited a polite few moments before tucking into the meal. The conversation, after all, was as important a part of the dinner as anything.

"If I could choose," he added, contemplating Rasmus' question. "I'd take the short trek, because if the best doesn't come to pass, it'd still be over with quickly." But if necessary, he'd take the long trek with no complaints.

Table Two

Sylvia was late to dinner. She had been hesitant in just about everything she’d done lately, unsure if it was because she was still adjusting, taking her time and observing everything as she went, or just… uncomfortable. Still, she did need food, and the preparations that had been going on during the tour earlier had smelled absolutely delicious, and had only developed since then, wafting out to greet her as she approached the Hearth and making her stomach grumble.

When she entered, she saw that many people had already formed some groups, though many tables were still empty. She took a deep breath and contemplated her options, but for all her hemming and hawing, she was a people-person, even in situations where no one was familiar. Still, she should go for a table that was maybe a bit smaller, not yet deeply embroiled in conversation. Her eyes barely scanned the tables before she made a decisive move and swept over to a table with at least one person who shared her flair for hair color, a smallish girl with pink hair, who seemed to have arrived at a table with a taller man with dreadlocks just a moment before.

“Hello,” she stepped up and offered a smile, “Do you mind if I join you?” She hardly waited for a response before taking a seat and pulling a plate towards her, eyeing the food available. She took some chicken, potatoes, vegetables – really, a little bit of everything, including a small bit of soup; until she knew what different foods would be like here, she was interested in giving everything a shot. She also took a sip of water and poured some wine.

“I’m Sylvia, by the way. Sorry if I’m interrupting, I just don’t know many people yet, and a smaller table seemed like an easier place to slip in and get acquainted.” Another smile and a sort of gleam in her eye as her nerves seemed to settle with the promise of food, fork now in hand and delving into a pile of veggies.