The Landsmeet still ongoing, but with a general sense that it's on the home stretch and might be done tomorrow, perhaps the day after. If Queen Anora plans to announce a decision about her marriage at the end, as she's expected to, that means they only have so much time to decide what information to give her, about whom, and which of the men under consideration they ought to spend their last day here trying to fully unmask.

So they're meeting at midday, in their room at the Slack Sail. There's no table to meet around; your options are lying on a bed, sitting on the floor, or standing.

Bastien's the last to arrive, looking very much like he ran for a few minutes to avoid being any later. "Sorry," he says. He deposits a load of bread and a hunk of cheese at the foot of one bed and unstraps a sheathed knife to drop beside them—with a look and a gesture to make sure it's clear that's an invitation for anyone who likes to cut into them and eat—before heading for a basin to rinse his face. "We can start now, I'm—"

Rinsing his face. He circles a damp hand in a let's go sort of way. Don't wait for him to sit.