Thomas stared at the handkerchief in his hand before looking up at the one who had discreetly placed it there, her head turned to the tattooed wizard. The weight and feel of the handkerchief indicated that its contents weren't a message or small weapon and the red-clad young woman didn't strike him to be an undercover agent of some shady organization that would reach out to him. Still, he lifted a corner of the handkerchief to peer at its insides with the stony face of someone opening a chest of blood money...
Oh!
His face did not betray him by expressing the joy and relief he felt when he saw the dried fruit, but his stomach leaped in excitement. He felt almost embarrassed for expecting something ridiculous, like an ominous note telling him "Don't eat the ham." He looked back at Mara, just as her shy green gaze flicked up to meet his.
"S-Sir Burgundy...is it not?"
It was not. Thomas didn't open his mouth in protest or make any indication that he was bothered by the way she addressed him, mostly because he wasn't sure what he could tell her to call him instead. He didn't have a false name and status to use, only his own. Back in the guild, he was simply referred to as Burgundy or Remelion when he wasn't being called something derogatory. Luther called him 'Young Black' when the grizzled old assassin was in one of his better moods, but no sirs. Never a 'sir'. He supposed with the bridge to that life broken, he was now just... Thomas.
Thomas. Thomas. Ugh, no wonder he went by Remelion at his guild. What self-respecting infamous assassin names her son Thomas? Thomas the Assassin sounded so - the wizard was talking.
The young man's petty internal dialogue ceased immediately as he turned his attention to Callion. He truly was an experience, that was for certain. The atmosphere around him seemed magically charged. Whether that was just the way he composed himself and the enthusiasm he spoke with or because the wizard literally had magic coming out of his ears, Thomas couldn't tell. Callion's spiel on the notion of equality quirked his brow, but that was as much of a reaction that could be squeezed from him. With everyone's eyes on the wizard, he reached into Mara's handkerchief and popped a slice of dried apple into his mouth. Not exactly polite to start nibbling on something before the food had been set out and the King was seated, he knew that, but... the way Callion was carrying on, he highly doubted that he was the worst offender. He flashed Mara a brief, tight-lipped smile from across the table as he chewed, his stomach purring from the attention. This small gesture of kindness was the most he had received in the past month, the last being when a fellow assassin shut the door for him because he asked. She was kind, too kind. Or just uncomfortable. She had found something familiar in him and reached out for it, like he was one of her kind. He could expect no more handkerchiefs once she learned to what extent that wasn't true.
Thomas swallowed, hard, when he watched Callion transform water into wine. Wizards. As impressive as they were, they were much more impressive when he knew they were on his side. With their fancy magical alarms, lightning hands and ability to alter the material world without regard they were - putting it bluntly - a bitch to kill. He pitied the poor sap tasked with Callion as their target, should the wizard ever have a price on his head.
He reluctantly took the cup that was forced upon him by Callion, a bewildered expression breaking through his straight face. As Callion moved on to fill the cups of the others, Thomas just looked down at the cup in his hand like he had no clue what to do with it. He peered up over it at the others in a discreet search for help, glancing briefly at Ragnar who was already swallowing down the poison. Assassins weren't allowed to drink. The first and last time he had drank was when he was a child, which resulted in consequences that made it quite easy to forsake the vice for his career. He wasn't... technically, he was unemployed now, so he could...
When he saw Garos take a swig, he brought the cup to his lips, took a sip, let it sit on his tongue, then quietly spat it back into the cup and set it down away from him. Hopefully nobody noticed him do that. Damn wizard spoiled a perfectly fine pitcher of water, in his opinion. He put a small handful of dried fruit in his mouth to mask the taste then turned to Callion, giving a nod in support of Mara's questions. He would rather not have detailed his own life story, and he had to admit... he was curious, too.