There was, as there frequently was in Kang's tavern, a small black cat sitting on the bar, her head down on her paws as she watched the activity around her. Rhiow had taken to stopping by the tavern when she went to and from Grand Central - she had been spending more time away from Tycho's quarters now that his mate had awakened. Things just got... awkward.

She was listening to Chaucer's story with half an ear - even the Speech only gave her a limited understanding of the idiomatic and cultural nuances contained in it, but everyone loved a good story making fun of a good idiot. "A decent thought, but I think my life has more than enough salt already, thank you," she said, her whiskers pushed forward in amusement.