Aye, I will very much take the primal slaying over politics. T'is well established talking is not my strong suit.

[That was Alphinaud's one use, really. Gale probably would have told numerous individuals to piss off without that kid.

Then he's silent, gazing into his tea cup again. Would Aymeric really contend with the archbishop that much? Is all of what he said the truth? As much as he wanted to be skeptical, Aymeric is the one that reached out to the Scions for help in the first place.

So as not to appear to be spacing out, he shifts his focus to the food for the time being. The tea brew was good, and salad was salad, but the soup... the soup was a pleasant surprise. Never in the world would Gale have pegged Aymeric to be a chef of any caliber, he would have assumed servants would have taken care of everything.

... Hells, is Aymeric actually genuine? Years ago he would never even so much as entertain the thought. Not when the loss of his family and memories of time in the Brume were so fresh in his mind.

In an effort to lighten the air so that the many troubles of Ishgard wouldn't weigh on them, Gale looked between the two with a faint smile and a light tone.]

Do you politic sorts ever get a chance to relax?