[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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[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.