[Ah, these two. For as much as Stephen plays at being inconvenienced, he can always make time for them — they needn’t go to this amount of effort to pry him from his books, he thinks. From this tavern. From this town.

(How long has he been in this town?)]]

I don’t keep track of time that closely anymore.

[Ah, the irony. Stephen runs his hand through his hair—now mussed, no saving it now—then sighs, and takes Aegis’ hand. His own touch radiates with arcane power, enough to debilitate any mortal who might take his hand unbidden, but his fellow gods would only feel the warm thrum of the All-Seer’s very essence. Familiarity, comfort, friendship.]

Fine. I suppose it’s unbecoming to ignore one’s responsibilities completely.

[An irony there, too, that he has long forgotten. But he offers them both a wry smile.]

It’s been a while, anyway, since we’ve had an echo to tend to.

[Or has it…? ...He can’t remember.]