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.

Cat takes another deep breath as the others join her, glancing up to Aoife as she speaks and nodding, "This is what I was distracted by. It's... a bit much to take in, I'm not gonna lie, but it could well be one of the more important decisions of my life."

Once those who have gathered are settled, she rubs her hands together for a moment before continuing, "Last night, Circe, the proper witch Circe, spoke with me... about a great deal of things. I haven't sorted it all out, but once I do I'll explain most, but one thing was most important and most pressing. According to her, she needs to choose another to take on her mantle and become Circe... and tradition, or some sort of witch-magic rules, dictates that she choose me."

She hesitates, glancing up at the group to gauge their reactions.