[Olivine moved into Finn's Inn on the common recommendation that it was a free option for those who had newly arrived, or who had no other place to go. The rooms were clean and bright, the food plentiful and free, and Olivine had been very nervous about the entire experience. Then he had discovered, like other shy personages before him, things like crawlspaces, cheese-cellars, and basements— and all manner of out-of-the-way storage closets. Dark places, easily made comfortable, and ideal for someone of a Ollie's small stature and tentative demeanor.
And maybe he'd forgotten to tell anyone exactly where he was sleeping, but surely that would be.... fine. And he'd taken to spending a portion of each day in cleaning up the floors, and tidying everything, and washing whatever became dirty. It was comforting, really, so like the routine of daily care and cleaning for his charges back home that it never occurred to him that it was anything worth mentioning.
But of course, nothing lasts forever.
And so, whether he's been called out, or by chance, Olivine finds himself more or less alone in the common room, with Finnick. In the middle of picking up after someone's meal. It's... is it a little awkward? It feels awkward. Running away would probably be the wrong choice. Would probably make it worse. Would be startling and uncivilized and strange. Probably. He should probably not simply run away.
So instead he hesitates, and stares, and then... a little sheepishly, speaks.]
[Finnick smiles warmly at Olivine. He's seen the drider around the Inn and has definitely noticed his penchant for cleaning, but despite Finnick's attempts to thank him for the cleaning or work out an arrangement that might work best, Olivine has been elusive. Shy.]
Thanks for picking that up. How are things?
[Finnick himself is cleaning up behind the bar and crunching a few numbers on a notepad. He figures keeping it conversational is best for now, rather than a big speech of thanks, so as not to scare Ollie off.]
[He does this every day, and more than once if he can. Sometimes it gets a bit silly: he wonders if anyone else is cleaning up... and then stops wondering and gets to work.]
Oh, um. Mr Finnick, sir, I should tell you... I'm sorry but. I'm the one who has been taking all of the shrimps. I can't eat most of the other food, and for some reason those are edible to me. But everyone seems to like them as well? [He hates to think of himself as greedy, or as monopolizing everyone's favorite. But...] I can try to pay for some of it, I didn't mean to sneak.
[He did mean to sneak, he meant to go on sneaking if nobody stopped him. But he was still a bit ashamed of it. But now it's all confessed and that's that. Whew, a what a load off! Is he forgetting anything else?]
Oh! And! You can give my room to someone else, because. It's nicer in the basement for me. If— is that alright?
[He nods. He's always busy. At the shrimp confession, he can't help but laugh a little.]
That's okay. Eat as many shrimps as you want. I'm a fisherman, as I'm sure you noticed, [what with all the nautical theming here,] so it's not hard for me to get more. You shouldn't pay for anything, not with how much cleaning you do. If anything, I should be paying you.
[He feels bad when he's not able to pay people for their work. Though he tries to, it's hard when the place doesn't turn a profit. He has to hope they're doing it for the same reason he is, to take care of this little community they've built. Or for the room and board and the convenience of working where you live. Or that they find some other joy in it.
He tilts his head, but. Well. Accommodations for atypical preferences and needs are par for the course here.]
The basement? If you like it better, then sure, I don't see a problem there. Just let me know if you need me to rearrange anything down there.
Ah, but. I'm just cleaning? I live here. It would be silly to pay someone for cleaning where they live.
[Something in Olivine's demeanor takes in the implication, and stumbles mightily over the idea that Finnick is feeding him. That it is Finnick's food that is— no, that's silly, of course. It's just Finnick is.... farming! The sea. Farming the sea for shrimp. And it's alright to take from the common store after all. Still, it's a bit alamring how easily the thought of it comes to him; food-gifts and flirtations, and Finnick a human after all. What is this place doing to him?
Let's not think about it.]
I do! The basement is much nicer for a Drider— sorry, that's what I am. We're underground peoples, and the sun is... awful, for us.
But- you're cleaning up after others, not just yourself.
[He gestures to the table Ollie just took a plate off of.
A Drider... Finnick encountered one on a quest once, and she was in a cave. That Drider was nothing like Olivine, though.]
Oh, underground? That makes sense. There's some others here who grew up underground. Just- there's a lot of cheese and stuff down there, so let me know if I need to make some space for you.
I'm always cleaning up after others [still visibly confused] I'm... It's normal?
[Even leaving aside Olivine's low status as an unmarried male drider, and the highly communal nature of his native society, he was only a common laborer. It did not even occur to him that he should only ever be responsible for his own messes.]
I did see the cheese! Why is there so much of it? I could wrap some up in silk, if you want... it should keep forever that way. And not smell.
Oh. Well... [Finnick is a little befuddled. This must be a cultural difference.] Most people consider cleaning up after people you don't know to be a job you get paid for. But if you don't mind doing it, then, by all means.
[He shrugs. Far be it from in to talk someone out of helping out around here, if that's what they want to do.]
Oh, that would be good, yeah. A former resident here, Viktor, and Skandranon, that giant gryphon guy, moved into a house that used to belong to a cheesemonger. So they had all of this cheese to get rid of, and donated a lot of it to the inn.
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Spooder at the Finninn
And maybe he'd forgotten to tell anyone exactly where he was sleeping, but surely that would be.... fine. And he'd taken to spending a portion of each day in cleaning up the floors, and tidying everything, and washing whatever became dirty. It was comforting, really, so like the routine of daily care and cleaning for his charges back home that it never occurred to him that it was anything worth mentioning.
But of course, nothing lasts forever.
And so, whether he's been called out, or by chance, Olivine finds himself more or less alone in the common room, with Finnick. In the middle of picking up after someone's meal. It's... is it a little awkward? It feels awkward. Running away would probably be the wrong choice. Would probably make it worse. Would be startling and uncivilized and strange. Probably. He should probably not simply run away.
So instead he hesitates, and stares, and then... a little sheepishly, speaks.]
Um. Sorry. Good morning?
no subject
[Finnick smiles warmly at Olivine. He's seen the drider around the Inn and has definitely noticed his penchant for cleaning, but despite Finnick's attempts to thank him for the cleaning or work out an arrangement that might work best, Olivine has been elusive. Shy.]
Thanks for picking that up. How are things?
[Finnick himself is cleaning up behind the bar and crunching a few numbers on a notepad. He figures keeping it conversational is best for now, rather than a big speech of thanks, so as not to scare Ollie off.]
no subject
[He does this every day, and more than once if he can. Sometimes it gets a bit silly: he wonders if anyone else is cleaning up... and then stops wondering and gets to work.]
Oh, um. Mr Finnick, sir, I should tell you... I'm sorry but. I'm the one who has been taking all of the shrimps. I can't eat most of the other food, and for some reason those are edible to me. But everyone seems to like them as well? [He hates to think of himself as greedy, or as monopolizing everyone's favorite. But...] I can try to pay for some of it, I didn't mean to sneak.
[He did mean to sneak, he meant to go on sneaking if nobody stopped him. But he was still a bit ashamed of it. But now it's all confessed and that's that. Whew, a what a load off! Is he forgetting anything else?]
Oh! And! You can give my room to someone else, because. It's nicer in the basement for me. If— is that alright?
[Nailed it.]
no subject
[He nods. He's always busy. At the shrimp confession, he can't help but laugh a little.]
That's okay. Eat as many shrimps as you want. I'm a fisherman, as I'm sure you noticed, [what with all the nautical theming here,] so it's not hard for me to get more. You shouldn't pay for anything, not with how much cleaning you do. If anything, I should be paying you.
[He feels bad when he's not able to pay people for their work. Though he tries to, it's hard when the place doesn't turn a profit. He has to hope they're doing it for the same reason he is, to take care of this little community they've built. Or for the room and board and the convenience of working where you live. Or that they find some other joy in it.
He tilts his head, but. Well. Accommodations for atypical preferences and needs are par for the course here.]
The basement? If you like it better, then sure, I don't see a problem there. Just let me know if you need me to rearrange anything down there.
no subject
[Something in Olivine's demeanor takes in the implication, and stumbles mightily over the idea that Finnick is feeding him. That it is Finnick's food that is— no, that's silly, of course. It's just Finnick is.... farming! The sea. Farming the sea for shrimp. And it's alright to take from the common store after all. Still, it's a bit alamring how easily the thought of it comes to him; food-gifts and flirtations, and Finnick a human after all. What is this place doing to him?
Let's not think about it.]
I do! The basement is much nicer for a Drider— sorry, that's what I am. We're underground peoples, and the sun is... awful, for us.
no subject
[He gestures to the table Ollie just took a plate off of.
A Drider... Finnick encountered one on a quest once, and she was in a cave. That Drider was nothing like Olivine, though.]
Oh, underground? That makes sense. There's some others here who grew up underground. Just- there's a lot of cheese and stuff down there, so let me know if I need to make some space for you.
no subject
[Even leaving aside Olivine's low status as an unmarried male drider, and the highly communal nature of his native society, he was only a common laborer. It did not even occur to him that he should only ever be responsible for his own messes.]
I did see the cheese! Why is there so much of it? I could wrap some up in silk, if you want... it should keep forever that way. And not smell.
no subject
[He shrugs. Far be it from in to talk someone out of helping out around here, if that's what they want to do.]
Oh, that would be good, yeah. A former resident here, Viktor, and Skandranon, that giant gryphon guy, moved into a house that used to belong to a cheesemonger. So they had all of this cheese to get rid of, and donated a lot of it to the inn.