The morning after the fight with Circe, Catrìona sets her quill down on the box, her journal open in front of her. She studies the last words for a moment, taking a deep breath as one hand reaches up to touch the pouch around her neck. After another moment she glances at anyone who might be awake, walking to them and folding her arms, "We need to talk about something," she says, quietly, "Come sit with me in the Tavern. I have a decision to make."

Once she's said her piece she moves to the tavern herself, taking a seat near the dice table.

Aoife follows her with a worried look on her face.

Is this the thing you were thinking about last night? Before all the...
The thing you were distracted by?

Amelia, who was humming quietly to herself while writing in her book, shrugs and goes to the tavern to listen. She finds a place to sit and pulls her book out again and goes back to writing although clearly ready to pay attention once everyone arrives.

Roarke wakes up, picks his head up from the table, half full mug in hand. He takes a sip, also offering his undivided, yet inebriated attention.

George makes his way over as well. He seems sober at this point, but clearly has a massive hangover which he’s trying to ease by sipping from a small glass a whiskey. As he sits down, he glares at Amelia, but is too uncomfortable to even make a racist comment at her.

Amelia glances up at George and rolls her eyes with a sigh. She mutters about maybe not helping him the next time he's suffering from PTSD and continues writing in her book. As she does so a small smile plays across her lips briefly.