“I’ll wander a bit. Get more food... maybe I’ll cook, later,” P’rihnn suggests, his tail waving leisurely behind him at the thought of cooking something good. “Something for our inevitable journey to wherever we need to be.” At least, to his relief, his gil was apparently perfectly valid currency even in the First.

He sits on the bench, strapping on his sandals.

“I’ll walk with you to the tower, then head to the markets. That fine by you?”