Istredd was trained for courts like all mages and he simply never was good at them. Not even once. Small talk is painful for him and he is a natural introvert, but he is pretending tonight. Trying to. For all his nerves, the moment he starts his show, that anxiety seems to fall off. He seems in his element, focused, happy with the artistry he rarely shows off.

He remembers to breathe only after it's over and while his attention shifts right away to somewhere in the back of the room, his eyes flicker over to John less than a second later. His smile is hesitant but genuine. He usually is uncomfortable with praise, but he chose to do this tonight, so he has to accept the accolades for it.

"Thank you, it took many years of exhaustive practice, I assure you." Istredd does have a gift for it, not all mages do. Most of them growing up start to show leaning one way or the other, his mind magic is what drew his mentor to him in the first place.

"Your poetry was beautiful as well." He is terrible at poetry. Magic is his art. Istredd raises an eyebrow at him. "You must be one of the new Summoned I missed. My apologies, usually Rhy and I do a welcome party, but we were not able to." Considering what happened to them.