Sarinah wandered out of the bedroom she and the passive shared, tying her long black and red hair into a braid as she began to decend the stairs. This morning, she'd spent time rummaging through the clothes she had, to find something more appropriate than her dancing outfit. There was a nice mauve skirt, and a loose white top with sleeves that ended at her elbow. Over the top she wore a black corset, tied firmly at the front.

Halfway down the staircase, she looked for Tristaan over the railing. The place was looking good, more open, more finished.

"Hama?" She called out as she continued down, anklets jingling with each step. Had he stepped out? Reaching the ground, she turned around the banister and made for the kitchen.

"Tristaan?"

The passive was staring at the icebox again.

He didn't hear his name called the first time, standing barefoot in the kitchen, mostly dressed (he might've been buttoning his shirt before the lure of the cold food storage distracted him) and finally clean-shaven. Only a smear of ugly yellow still marred the once-swollen side of his face—a faint reminder of only a handful of evening's previous misadventures.

It took a few moments to register Sarinah's voice and field. Chagrined, the swordsman blinked and turned to offer the lovely witch a lopsided, sheepish sort of grin,

"Oes. I was jus' ... uh ... consideirn' lunch." Tristaan offered with a chagrined sort of tone, pushing away the kind of memories staring at the icebox often returned to his thoughts ... memories of a seemingly impossible childhood in a seemingly impossible fancy house from some impossible life he might have never really lived.

"Might be 'bout that time, ye chen?"

Sarinah stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame and smiling at the passive as he turned away from the icebox. Her eyes looked a little amused, and somewhat curious, but she didn't ask why he had been staring at the small coldkeep. Somethings a man did, they didn't need to explain.

"Oes kov, I could really use something to eat. Ent sure what, but I think it would be nice if we took our lunch somewhere else apart from here, ye chen? Maybe we can find something along the way and go down to the beach. Watch the birds over the water, maybe take a dip...sound good hama?" She had moved inside the kitchen as she spoke, standing beside him and pushing back one of his own stray hairs. It wasn't right for them to be stuck in the Hingle all day every day.

"Fresh air and all that, supposed to be benny for the soul."

Tristaan wouldn't have been able to really answer any questions about his obsession with the icebox. It just was. He liked looking at it; having cold, fresh food made him feel accomplished, settled, secure. It wasn't just nostalgia ... it was something more. He just couldn't put it into words.

"Hmm," the passive exhaled thoughtfully, pausing just long enough to listen for any hints of rain outside. It'd slowed considerably since earlier in the month, and it didn't seem to be pouring buckets like it had been earlier in the week, "I ent opposed t'any of that."

"Y'got somewhere in mind already, macha?" He teased, arching a slim, dark eyebrow with a hint of mischief. It wasn't like he was picky, especially when hungry. Besides, getting outside seemed like a fine idea. He'd seen enough of the Hingle's walls lately.

Sarinah smiled back, shaking her head.

"Ne kov. Ent thought that far ahead, oh! There's a nice place near the harbour, sells benny fishcakes and potatos all cut up and cooked in hot fat. We could pick some up, and it wouldn't hurt to get a nice bottle of that fancy wine. Y'know, the one with the bubbles in it?" She wiggled her fingers slightly to emphaize the point. Lowering her hand sheepishly, she shrugged. It wasn't that she was nervous talking to the passive, well...maybe she was a little.

The dancer didn't want to feel like that, but Sarinah knew she didn't want anyone else but Tristaan. The past week had been a whirlwind of emotions - and the witch was done with games. It didn't hurt her to smarten up a little, and it sort of felt like starting new with him. Like the first timid steps in a relationship...something they'd almost skipped over with their first dates. Fights, exodus, jobs, surwood and now the Rose. Somewhere along the way, they'd missed that change to yach. Sarinah wanted to start fresh, make it right.

"Sounds benny t'me." Tristaan chuckled, smiling as he watched her careful illustration of the fizz in whatever expensive alcohol she was describing. His expression warmed and if he noticed her awkwardness, the passive didn't let it show in his expression or carry it in his tone with his words.

It wasn't like he was entirely unaware, but it wasn't like he was very sure of the solution, either. He wanted to feel more secure about what the two of them had together, and yet that required a very personal shift in perspective that wasn't going to happen overnight. It would take effort. It would be hard.

However, Tristaan had long-since decided Sarinah was worth it.

"Th'weather might be in our favor for once, too. We'd best enjoy't while it lasts, eh?" He hummed, hands reaching up to tie back his hair as he spoke, teasing with a grin, "Sounds like y'know where we're goin', so I ent complainin' if I've gotta follow you."

Smiling broadly, the dancer beckoned to Tristaan, leading him out of the kitchen - away from the curiously interesting icebox - and into the muddied streets of the Rose, stopping only to retrieve their coats. The rain had eased up for the day, and the sun was trying its best to shine, managing something of a decent gleam on the wet town.

As they walked, Sarinah slipped an arm into his own, walking close enough that they were touching. She watched the ground, avoiding the muddiest puddles on tip toes.

"Ye think the Hingle is almost ready for business kov?" The brunette witch asked in a conversational tone. They had people...a band...a dancer. More had come, and more had auditioned. The workers flittered in and out of the burlesque house during the day, helping where they could and choosing their rooms of rent. Each day the place looked less like the dive of an old pirate and more like the dancing house she had envisioned in her mind. Thankfully, the Bad Brothers had yet to take an interest in the place. Sure, they would more than likely show up when the Hingle was in full swing...but by then at least, Sarinah could talk to them...strike a deal perhaps? Her mind wandered as she waited for Tristaan's reply, leading them towards the busy harbour.