Keep the extra coin? Morrigan was just as bewildered as Fish themselves as the little thief denied Morrigan’s offer of money. Morrigan’s brows furrowed only a moment before smoothing out into a more neutral expression as the bird’s hands dropped back to their side. They did not push the subject- not out of any sense of tact, but because they were seemingly having a revelation of their own. Both criminals remained silent, as if pondering the wonders of this incomprehensible, serendipitous emotion called friendship that neither had really put a label on before.

And then Morrigan stopped any inner reflection because they dashed off to grab Kvasir’s shoulder once more and pull him towards their new table, and this act of master and apprentice was on once more.

And, oh, was Kvasir making it difficult to keep up this lie.

Morrigan hid their tight smile behind a sip of their drink, tail swishing idly behind them. Hmm. What kind of story could they spin that would be easy enough to back up? For a moment, Morrigan considered reaching back into their bag of wonders for another distraction to put an end to this conversation, but they had a feeling that Kvasir’s genuine interest would not be swayed so easily.

“We have not had the opportunity to go over much, as of yet.” Morrigan admitted. “Fish here is a natural talent for potions, and I’ve yet to find the right approach to teach them my knowledge.” To be honest, Morrigan wasn’t even sure how they’d go about training someone like Fish, who was so meticulous that they would probably be suited to learning under someone like Kvasir.

But Morrigan would allow themselves to entertain the thought of what it would really like to be Fish’s teacher. For a moment.

They supposed they’d start slow, much in the same way Madam Medb once taught them, a grubby little fifteen-year-old that barely knew how to speak and tracked mud in her tent. But they had a brightness in their eyes and a desire to learn, to acquire as much knowledge as they could, something they thought they saw in Fish. Morrigan would not teach Fish ‘the rules’, the way proper alchemy was ought to be done. For it you knew those, then you held yourself to them, and you were limited by what stuff, boring scholars of the past said was and wasn’t possible.

What Morrigan would do was start small- perhaps with a health potion or a smoke flask. Then they’d teach Fish poisons. An alchemist was only as good as the poisons they knew, she used to say as she mixed rosary peas into a concoction she’d been making. And then, Morrigan would give Fish the same test Madam Medb had once given them-

To create their own potion.

It was a nice thought to entertain while it lasted, even if that illusion would shatter once Fish had to go back to their job.

“If I had to pick just one to start with, I’ll teach Fish the first one I learned- the glitter bomb.” Morrigan turned to Fish with a teasing grin, not wanting to push their luck while the little thief was playing along, but unable to resist poking fun. “What would you say to that, Fish? Sound interesting enough to you, or would you want more of a challenge?”

Given their small stature, Fish is forced to stand in their seat so they can be seen and not have to stretch to see over the table. Any instance at getting a booster seat will be met with an intense and hateful stare. They look between the pair was they talk, a little surprised this first part of the brunch conversation would focus on them somewhat. Their head tilts a little bit as the men talk.



The mention of glitter gets a less than pleased reaction from Fish. Black powder and bombs, fun. Glitter and gloss, not fun. "Fish thinks other materials would be of better use than glitter. It is too fine to do much....Shards of metal or glass would be much more effective in any sort of hand-carried explosive. The weight and strength of the material would do much more." Now that they had switched to talking about work and making things, Fish has briefly forgotten they are supposed to be playing along and not saying things a criminal would say. Whoops.

Another small smile pulls at the corners of Kvasir's lips as he sips at his tea, citrus and sugar settling sweetly on his tongue as he listens to Morrigan talk about the tentative way they were easing into this apprenticeship, the uncertainty that comes with navigating the first few steps of finding the right way to pass down your knowledge. Teaching is a difficult thing; just because you learned something one way doesn't mean your student will absorb as effectively that same way, so there's always this current of challenge, the tumultuous early stages of adaptation so you can learn how to help them learn in the best possible way.

Kvasir grew up in the midst of medicine, surrounded by the staples of his father's practice; he knew how to wield a scalpel with the same amount of steadiness he knew how to hold a pen with by the age of seven, could cut a straight line with all the precision he could write his name with. Even if the specific ways he inherited some of those skills float at the edges of memory, lost to time and divine fingertips, muscle memory and the finest points of his medicinal knowledge are cleanly engraved into his brain, etched in as carefully as runes upon stone. He truly does know his craft better than he knows himself, at the day's end, and it is the one thing he can cling to most steadily.

Even so, holding such knowledge does not mean it's easy to pass down; taking the things he grew up around and studied from childhood into adolescence to adulthood and somehow condensing it into a curriculum that's easy for one young adult to parse is far more difficult than most might think. It's a challenge, but not a challenge he is unwilling to try and conquer-- so when Morrigan says they are still figuring out where to go with this apprenticeship, he understands quite well.

"Ah, well, there's always that learning curve in the beginning," he says, setting his tea down, idly swirling a spoon through it just to watch honey and sugar dance through the translucent orange liquid. "Part of starting an apprenticeship is learning to understand each other, and figuring out what your student can teach you. It's... a bit of a challenge, to start, but it's worth it."

The wistfulness in his eye quickly shifts at the mention of glitter, at Fish's almost-grimace, at the way they insist that heftier materials would serve them better in an explosive. Kvasir pauses for a moment before softly giggling, muffling the sound behind his hand, amusement shining in that viridian eye.

"Mm, if you're looking to actually go around tossing bombs, then you aren't wrong, Fish," he chuckles, glancing around to make sure no one's overheard that particular snippet of words. "I think the most harm a glitter bomb will do is lung damage... I'm not sure how bad it would be, though. I'm not well versed in glitter science."

...hm. Considering how often Morrigan tosses that stuff around, maybe Kvasir should consider getting more well versed in glitter science.

It was safe to say that Morrigan was internally panicking the entire time Fish was talking about the best way to pack an explosive, the exact kind of thing a benign alchemist’s apprentice should not be talking about. They glanced at Kvasir, nervous to see how he would react to the discussion about bomb-making, but perhaps he thought it was all some sort of hypothetical, as he seemed… nonplussed about this train of thought.

“Mm.” They nodded in agreement. “Sometimes I wonder how my own mentor put up with me. I’m sure this may come as a surprise, but I was just as naturally gifted in my youth as I am now, and as much of a hellion to boot.” They flashed Kvasir a playful smirk. Back in those days, there had been plenty of explosions, alchemical mishaps, and talking back on Morrigan’s part. Mischief was something they were well accustomed to - they had no doubt they could handle whatever Fish threw at them…

Assuming this was all real and not a ruse, of course. Morrigan’s enthusiasm had gotten the better of them once more.

They cleared their throat, putting a hand to their chest in mock-offense at Kvasir’s implication that their glitter was harmful to the lungs. “I assure you, my dearest friend and apprentice, that my glitter is personally alchemically synthesized by me, and is completely safe to inhale.” Any of its use in glitter bombs was, for lack of a better word, for flavor. Meant to blind the eyes while perfectly safe, considering Morrigan was often subjected to inhaling it during their escapes.

At least, they thought it was… mostly safe.

Okay, they were about forty percent sure.

Maybe they should actually look into seeing if their glitter was actually harmful or not. Morrigan had inhaled it so many times… and even used it against that mousy thief back in Darkveil… oh, Ginma, had Morrigan given that brat of a teenage thief some lung disease from glitter inhalation? More importantly, had they given themselves some lung disease from glitter inhalation?

“Besides, I would not be so reckless as to give my apprentice access to glitter for building actual bombs. If Fish wants to build actual explosives, I would give them nothing but the finest materials for maximum shrapnel damage and power.” Seriously, if the child was going to be making a bomb, then in situations where they actually needed one, it may as well actually be powerful enough to defend them, yeah? It wasn’t as if Fish was going to stop making bombs if they weren’t watched and guided on how to make the most badass explosive of all.

Maybe they really should teach Fish how to make explosives. Morrigan’s alchemy mostly catered towards disruption and showmanship, but the bird deserved a bomb, and it would be fun to learn how to make new explosives and poisons.

Assuming Fish actually wanted to learn under them, again.

Morrigan was making a lot of assumptions today.

"Perhaps if Fish added some sort of irritant to it..." They pull out their notebook and quickly scribble in the margins. Glitter plus lung irritant equals ? They would figure that out through testing. A few different options for lung irritant are listed below the word. Something they would have to experiment with later.



If Kvasir looked over at the notes, they could see Fish was a lot more diligent a study than their so-called mentor. There are a few different concotions listed there and their specific milimeter amounts, well-detailed instructions on how and when to mix them. Thankfully for Morrigan, they were not all poisons. Some, like the itching powder they used to fend off bugs, were seemingly harmless prank items that would fit with Morrigan's modus operandi.



Of course, there were also recipes for poisons, but juuuuust enough of a mix that it doesn't seem immediately obvious they were a thief. As for the lunch at hand, Fish orders small bites of things that they, a bird, can simply toss back and don't actually have to chew. To drink, the bird is forced to double hand a cup, tilt their head back, and just empty the contents.

At Morrigan's mention of the fact that their affinity for their crafts and their tendency to flirt with chaos has followed them consistently over the years, Kvasir cannot help but laugh again, shooting them a look they know well-- one quirked eyebrow, green eye glinting with amusement and fond disbelief in equal measure, a subdued smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Oh, how unsurprising it is to hear that Morrigan has always been the type to dance with disaster; considering the number of times they've followed their own whims right into the maw of danger, proudly torching any prayer Kvasir has for good cardiovascular health along the way, it's hardly surprising to hear that they were the same way in their youth.

But that chaos is what makes them magnetic. Even if Morrigan's whims carry them off cliff sides and into skirmishes with displacer beasts and into all other kinds of mortal danger, Kvasir has long since accepted the fact that he will always be racing along right behind them without a moment's hesitation. However much he fears Kasra's influence, there is no place Morrigan Moonweaver could go that Kvasir would not follow.

"Oh, I'm simply shocked," he says dryly, tone laced with faux-exhaustion though that smile never once drops from his face. "Well, it's good to know I'm not the only person in the world you've been determined to condemn to an early grave due to stress. You almost made me wonder if I was getting some sort of special treatment."

His fingertips dance over the length of the spoon sitting in his teacup, the idle movement giving him something to do as he watches Fish produce their notebook, wrapped up in their own little world of planning as they scribble away. Kvasir likes to think he's not the nosy sort, but it's hard not to get a little bit of a look at the contents of their notepad from this position, considering the height difference, and oh, they are thorough. It's fascinating to see the way they see alchemy, the way components come together in their mind; one thing Kvasir has learned in his brief time in the Consortium is that, for a practice that's meant to dance within the realm of science, an alchemist's soul often bleeds into their craft.

"Mmhm," he idly hums, still curiously watching the way Fish writes, though he is careful not to look too closely at the details, wanting to respect their privacy. "Ah, I imagine that's a hypothetical, though? You're not teaching your dear apprentice anything untoward, are you, my dear enchanter?"

Kvasir delivers the words with an easy laugh and a gentle smile, not so much as a shadow of genuine skepticism flickering in his eye as he glances between his friend and their apprentice. It isn't his business what Morrigan decides to teach to Fish, of course, but he'd hope explosives aren't necessary for whatever Fish wants to achieve.

...He'd hope, at least. They are... quite fixated on it.

Hm.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.” There was a lilting tone in Morrigan’s voice as they spoke, not at all offended by Kvasir’s insinuation that they were a walking heart attack for anyone they met. Morrigan reveled in that reputation, really. They loved being seen as a chaotic force of nature, one that no man was able to fully stop or tame. “If you ever wish to kill me for the damage that has been incidentally wrought on your nerves from my actions, you will have a long line of angry suitors to fight through first.”

That last part was accompanied with a laugh, though neither Fish nor Kvasir laughed - the former, because they were absorbed in their scribblings, and the latter, because he’d heard this joke enough times by now that the most he managed was a dry look that said he was utterly unimpressed by Morrigan’s antics. They thought they might have seen him even mouth the words Ash Roses before turning to see what project Fish was wrapped up in. Curious, Morrigan glanced over themselves, watching them note down some recipe ideas for explosives. They didn’t bat an eye at the pure abundance of poison amidst the visible recipes, not overwhelming, but just enough to be concerning to anyone with a healthy sense of basic child health and safety.

“If you’re looking for something to aggravate the lungs through inhalation, I’d suggest smoke peppers.” The spicy Zeinav plant was one that Morrigan often used as a component for gaseous poisons - it would be easy enough for Fish to get their hands on in any market for little coin. Of course, they were under no illusion that Fish would make any kind of purchase for an item that they could easily swipe while no one was looking. The thief had fast hands and could easily swipe as many spell components that they needed.

Kvasir’s comment suddenly set them on edge, though, as they realized how much they’d been following this train of thought. Of course Morrigan was gonna train them how to make explosives! It was better to know how to make these types of things so you didn’t accidentally go blowing yourself up willy-nilly. Madam Medb had taught them how to make explosives at fifteen, and they’d turned out just fine-!

Wait. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to admit to Kvasir that. He would start asking more questions about exactly what kinds of illegal things Morrigan was teaching their fake-apprentice, and that was doubt that Morrigan didn’t need to cast over this entire charade. They didn’t need to go around giving Kvasir any kind of hint that Fish was actually criminal and had every reason to go around building bombs. They tugged at the sleeve of their jacket, suddenly feeling sweat trickle down the side of their face, and not because of the heat.

“Er, well, of course it’s all hypothetical!” Morrigan said with all the confidence of a used wagon salesman and all the bullshit to back it up. “I would never actually teach Fish here how to make anything unsafe until I was certain they could handle it. But I’ll never smother a healthy curiosity!” They huffed out a forced laugh that sounded more like a pained wheeze.

They’d been eating for quite a bit now - enough so that as Morrigan mimicked glancing at a timepiece and declaring, “Would you look at the time, it’s actually getting quite late! Perhaps it’s time for Fish to head home?”, it didn’t feel entirely out of place. Not that they cared. They had to shut down this line of conversation now.

They stood, gesturing for Kvasir to follow. “I should get you to your inn as well, shouldn’t I, my dear medic? You’ll be here tomorrow, yes? Perhaps we could get brunch, or make another outing of it. This has been absolutely wonderful, as has the chance to introduce the two of you. We should do this again sometime!”

That, too, was spoken like someone who hoped this stressful event would not be happening again anytime soon for their own sanity. But at the very least, this outing hadn’t gone horrible, and as the three eventually parted ways from the outing, it was obvious that Morrigan had learned absolutely nothing from the experience…

Except for maybe the fact that they knew a little more about Fish, and had maybe gotten to learn a little bit about the wonderful human emotion known as friendship.

"Peppers are...an idea. Capsascin could work better as a spray to send into the eyes....Sprayed Pepper..." Fish jots down an idea with just those words and a few different types of pepper to test out.

"Morrigan does not teach anything untoward." Morrigan didn't teach them anything, but the only way Fish could really lie was by omission. They lacked the social nuance to lie proficiently, but they can simply stop talking. Another point of difference between Fish and Morrigan. Also the line between healthy curiosity and obsession is a reallllllllllly thin line for Fish. Ideas come in and out of them at a rapid pace.

Fish picks up their head to look over the two as they talk. Little eyes squint at Kvasir seemingly eyeing them up for a moment. "Kvasir does not appear at risk of a stress-induced death, but Fish would have to do more of a check up."

When it is likely explained that Kvasir is simply using hyperbole, the concept seems lost on Fish. Health is not something to joke about.

They note that the others do seem to be packing up and remember they do have an actual job to be doing. Little talons scramble their notes together back into the note book and the leather strap holding it closed is wrapped back up. Hands full of book, the bird skitters off back into the crowd passing by forgetting to say goodbye.