The sound of footsteps preceded Signy into the dining room; her feet made small but distinct and echoing sounds against the stone floors. They were clearly the steps of someone who had never even thought about learning to walk quietly. What need was there for it? For her, at least. She stopped in the doorway, looking around—the hall was empty, were they no longer providing food? For most of the midday meal, Signy had been in her room, lying down and trying to get past the spell of nausea that had been dogging her all morning. (She would have attributed it to nerves, but if that was true, she had been nervous for several hours at a stretch, and on a very regular basis, every week or two, ever since becoming a mage.) It was mostly gone, but because of it, she hadn't eaten a thing all day.
She sighed, and was about to turn to go when she noticed the Antivan elf, Savio, at one of the tables, the lone, quiet diner—but he was dining, he had food, and a... white fur rug? On the table?
Signy blinked, and then watched, squinting slightly as the fur rug moved, and continued the steady motion of lapping at the bowl of gruel. It was an animal—but what kind of bizarre creature was it? "Ah—" She started, still staring at the Culture Hound in confused fascination, but addressing its human companion, "good afternoon."