There have been a couple of times on the island that he's come across opportunities for food from home, and a certain aversion to the pain of nostalgia has kept Even away from the very same phoenix pies and seafood stews that Oran's dug into so heartily at those times. Almost a year along, though, and the desire for the familiar has grown to a sharp pinch.

He hasn't been served his own mean yet -- in fact, he'd really only just arrived and found himself a booth, lost in a brown study until a voice behind and nearby pierced through.

Half a glance, initially intended to make sure the fellow wasn't talking to Even, turns into the orange tiefling fully turning around in his booth to take wide-eyed stock of this stranger.

It's not the first time he's come face to face with an unexpected fellow tiefling, but it's no less of a shock this time than last. A shock, and a delight, really -- and Even couldn't restrain his nosiness even if he wanted to.

"Left where?" he asks, an eager curiosity coloring his tone.