Azrael would find himself waiting for the satisfaction of that response as the waiter dipped by. The enchantress needed no prompt, again not deigning to wait for an invitation. The red would suffice, she said, though in such a way as to suggest that it wasn't at all her first choice but rather a consolation at the lack thereof. Moving on, she added that she would take the pan-roasted salmon, paired with a batch of fresh oysters (how fresh, she asked?) sauteed in a beer and bacon broth. Yes, that would do, she supposed, again as if it was hardly perfect but nevertheless sufficient. The waiter suddenly felt rather self-conscious of his menu.
Yennefer politely abstained from comment during Azrael's turn, and instead watched with cursory glances between the two men. Only when the waiter had swept away, menus in tow with a deep breath, did she speak again, "Frankly, I don't understand what you said in the second half of your monologue."
Her jaw tightened, causing the buccinator muscles in her face to flex rather splendidly.
"I am looking for a bit of something that they leave behind, when they go. How they go, the means of their departure, is unimportant to me. I'm not concerned with any of that. No, we have found that those abandoned traces, invisible to the eye, can be alchemically bound into a salt as a kind of residuum. The acquisition of which is the source of my request."