He was going to eat both pies? Vega watched with some surprise, it must be said, as he started in on what he had deemed to be her pie. She raised an eyebrow when he said that this was the single time that her father had been proven wrong, "Well that's not right, Roland is it? Yer here to find out stuff." She didn't sound accusatory, not at all, but it was fairly obvious. "An' I make it a rule not to keep anythin' from 'im." The orange and blue in her eyes swirled and she smiled, obviously relaxed and unconcerned, but still alert enough that she could move if there was a need. He didn't look like he could snap a string bean, but that wasn't the point.
He didn't believe in coincidences, but he wanted to create some? This bloke didn't think in the way she did, but that was alright, nor did most of the rest of the world. And if he wanted to meet some people, it kind of sort of made sense. "Well, that's as maybe, but you gotta understand that it's a bit... well, 'onestly, it's a bit weird, Roland." She shrugged. "But I'm a'right with weird."
Then, of all things, he welcomed her to the land of stupid people and Vega laughed. It was a genuine guffaw of laughter and she didn't seem, wasn't, at all put out by his words. He could give as good as he got, she liked that in a fellow mortal. U'frek save her from idiots, and he at least didn't seem to be one of those. Still, she sipped her whisky and she watched him. Like a spider in a web, she thought, and either one too new to realise that he might try seeming subtle, or so sure of himself that he didn't bother to try. Either way, Vega considered, she wasn't likely to be being beholden to him any trial soon.
Or any arc.
"So, you from Scalvoris originally?" Vega asked, fairly sure that he probably was. Maybe not from this part of it, but the way that he spoke of the land of stupid, it spoke of him being part of here. His confidence, too, spoke of this being somehow his place. But maybe not Almund. He stood out a bit. His hands, as far as she could see, were less weathered than her elbows and possibly, she thought, smoother than her ass. He didn't do any work, not honest work, anyhow. That might mean he was a scholar, he certainly sounded like he might be. But then, would he be in Almund? Probably not. She couldn't imagine that he'd come here, he was dressed nice, had an air of superiority and it was all a bit butt-end of nowhere here.
"Unless," she wondered aloud, "you're one of those fellas from the Tower. Right weird little structure that, an' apparently there's folks that go in an' out of there?" Might be possible, she supposed. But then, still sipping and not yet half way through her glass of whisky, she wondered again. "So, a'right, you want some company, an' you don't believe in coincidences.What's the purpose of me comin' an' sittin' at the table then?" It was interesting as a question because, to her mind, if there was no such thing as a coincidence, then everything had a reason. Even a moderately obnoxious redhead sitting down who didn't like brandy and didn't want to eat pie. To her mind, he'd told her far, far more about himself than she had told him, but that might be just perception, she recognised.
Time would tell. And, of course, whoever the third pie-eater (or not) was. If they refused it, would he eat the third? It was worth sticking around just to find that out.