The Fool is busy when they enter, though they aren't sure with what; a few moments' observation reveal a lighthearted conversation and a box of wares, and Rutile has seen enough commerce by now to understand what's going on. (Quietly, they suspect that it's behavior like this that draws the ire of the populace; the Talent Tourney had enough salespeople after them that Rutile longed for the relative peace of being surrounded by junior gems.) They smile back, though, and go on examining the plants.

They're still at this when the Fool appears beside them, showing where to get a drink. Rutile's follows his gesture, but they shake their head. "Oh, hardly," they say. "I don't drink. I'm not exactly made for it." That should hardly be news, but they mention it just in case.

"I'm still exploring the city," they note, "trying to get my bearings. I stopped in here because I saw the plants, and empty tables. This seems like a nice space to work."