Derrig had told him. He'd told all of them, when they were in training, and they'd ended up distracted or nervous and stumbled over their own feet when the Tempest had come out to watch them train. 'She's just a person like you or me,' he'd said. 'And a hell of a lot more awkward than any of you can manage trying it, so straighten up and stop tripping over yourselves.' Orym hadn't believed it. He hadn't because he'd never seen her be anything other than poised and put together. But looking at her now, this woman standing in front of him, Orym couldn't help but smile a sympathetic smile as he half shrugged a shoulder.
"I'm sure you're not going to make it anymore weird than it already is," Orym said, a playful lilt in his voice as he gestured around them. While he'd already been in Marquet and deserts had basically come with that territory, this was... a step beyond what he'd even been dropped into. And besides, Heartmoor had been a bog. And bogs at least had some sort of plant life. Even if it tried to kill you.
So at her mention of a garden (and a tavern, at that), Orym couldn't help but perk up, "Honestly, that sounds ideal. It's been awhile since I've seen a garden that wasn't fenced off in some rich person's yard," He said, shaking his head with a laugh. "Jrusar is... interesting."