[ the invitation to sit is accepted, and Abel slides to sit opposite his company after quickly shrugging out of his cloak, leaving it to drape over the back of the booth with careless indifference; once he's good and settled, he finds himself casting a glance over the interior of the tavern in earnest to take it all in. it is... mildly disheartening, perhaps, to see the note of dejection, the quietness of the din here. the Venerians are still bouncing back from their ordeal - and such things take time.

but it's also a comfort to see them slowly returning to the normal trappings of life. to enjoy a drink, to socialize with friends and family, to try and find some semblance of routine in times like these is important.

his gaze is absently following a man a few tables down, the fellow leaned over and talking in a quiet voice to a woman whose expression betrays she is Feeling Some Type Of Way about whatever he's saying. Abel's smile is a tad distracted as he leans his cheek in a palm, elbow atop the table. ]

It's funny, isn't it?

[ what, pray tell, he's talking about might not be immediately evident - but Abel sends his gaze back to Makoto a moment later to continue, ]

They suffered rather grievously here. Didn't they? [ everyone did. ] But life goes on, and despite it all... they're getting back to their lives, picking up the pieces... going back to work... having a drink at the bar they've always gone to. Flirting with a pretty girl, maybe?

[ or, perhaps... talking with a friend across the table. ]