Dorothea never has anything to do. Well, she tends to be offered plans, but she turns them down, almost always. Hobnobbing with nobles or other stars is no longer appealing to her, not when they don't understand her history, or how melancholy she can get after a glass or two. Most nights, she ends up just going back to her room, falling asleep almost before she can get her shoes off, waking up when the sun rudely enters her east-facing windows.

But being the star of the Mittelfrank Opera House gets her some perks. She should take the time to cash them in. Especially in scenarios like this - unexpected, perhaps once in a lifetime.

When Felix specifies the sort of food he's preferring, Dorothea laughs, big and loud. "I'm sure I can find somewhere to suit your Faerghan tongue." He was always prickly, she remembers - the war hadn't changed that about him. It's nice to see a bit of the boy she recalls in the man standing in front of her now. Maybe that's why she's so affectionate as she slips a hand around the crook of his elbow and drags him along down her path, steering him in the direction of the main street of restaurants in the city.

"What are you doing in town? More specifically, what were you doing at my show?" An odd question to ask someone she'd once tried to kill, maybe, but that was the past. Now, the joy of seeing a familiar face is overtaking any other concerns. And surely he isn't here to get rid of her now. Not when she barely has anything left.