"I wouldn't have guessed..." he trails off doubtfully, inspecting the plate a little more closely. Did Byleth perhaps flit off and return with a sample of everything? Emet-Selch's certain he couldn't polish off the half of it even if he wanted to. Azem, perhaps, might have given the man a run for his money, but...
He frowns (smiles, because he can do nothing else) at the selection, wondering if he's meant to simply graze off of the same plate. Then again, he is talking to the man who offered him a handful of berries upon arrival...
"Though neither would I be too certain of it."
Emet-Selch's bearing aside, he does settle into a respectful sort of listening, watching as the man takes a few bites of the fruit. For all that he's been rather disgruntled and impatient every chance that they've encountered one another, the silence is at least cordial.
"Overwhelming in what way? The press of people, the way so many discordant sounds seem to vie for attention all at once?" The questions are just that - questions. There's no indication that Emet-Selch is trying to make any particular point, nor corner him into admitting anything. "They grow tiresome after a while, in my opinion. Particularly those of a more official nature. Too much of a performance to be enjoyable. Better to spend an evening in the company of friends, at some slightly less boisterous venue."
Hypothetically speaking, anyway.
Who can say where Byleth is going to next when he gets up to leave a second time, though when he returns and offers a straw, Emet-Selch is left to stare blankly at him, his grin twitching in what might be confusion(??). What trifling thing is... Oh. Oh, he gets it now. Though he didn't think it was that much of an inconvenience.
"You needn't have bothered," he says. But eventually he does take it. Maybe because Byleth is apologizing for something so utterly ridiculous he feels the need to put an end to it as quickly as possible. (For the record, it does make things much easier like this.)
After a moment's pause (because he doesn't believe that Byleth would intentionally poison himself, and if there's anything strange about the food, it will not doubt impact Byleth well before he feels anything), Emet-Selch sighs and raises a hand before his face, taking a split-second to envision what he seeks with a crisp snap of his fingers.
And thus does Emet-Selch materialize a second plate out of seemingly nothing - white porcelain with intricate black, gold and red lines entwining to form complex art deco patterns that fill the outer rim.
no subject
He frowns (smiles, because he can do nothing else) at the selection, wondering if he's meant to simply graze off of the same plate. Then again, he is talking to the man who offered him a handful of berries upon arrival...
"Though neither would I be too certain of it."
Emet-Selch's bearing aside, he does settle into a respectful sort of listening, watching as the man takes a few bites of the fruit. For all that he's been rather disgruntled and impatient every chance that they've encountered one another, the silence is at least cordial.
"Overwhelming in what way? The press of people, the way so many discordant sounds seem to vie for attention all at once?" The questions are just that - questions. There's no indication that Emet-Selch is trying to make any particular point, nor corner him into admitting anything. "They grow tiresome after a while, in my opinion. Particularly those of a more official nature. Too much of a performance to be enjoyable. Better to spend an evening in the company of friends, at some slightly less boisterous venue."
Hypothetically speaking, anyway.
Who can say where Byleth is going to next when he gets up to leave a second time, though when he returns and offers a straw, Emet-Selch is left to stare blankly at him, his grin twitching in what might be confusion(??). What trifling thing is... Oh. Oh, he gets it now. Though he didn't think it was that much of an inconvenience.
"You needn't have bothered," he says. But eventually he does take it. Maybe because Byleth is apologizing for something so utterly ridiculous he feels the need to put an end to it as quickly as possible. (For the record, it does make things much easier like this.)
After a moment's pause (because he doesn't believe that Byleth would intentionally poison himself, and if there's anything strange about the food, it will not doubt impact Byleth well before he feels anything), Emet-Selch sighs and raises a hand before his face, taking a split-second to envision what he seeks with a crisp snap of his fingers.
And thus does Emet-Selch materialize a second plate out of seemingly nothing - white porcelain with intricate black, gold and red lines entwining to form complex art deco patterns that fill the outer rim.