Halbjorn and his usual companion wander upstairs. He thought he heard crashing around near the kitchen, which usually meant cooking. Granted, the last three times he's been right, its been cookies. He lost all sweet tooth about the time he hit seven or eight. Mead is as sweet as he cares to get, given the choice. Wastes of good flour, no real substance to them, no point in them except Ohu and Zoey loved them. But they were, only if very slightly, better than nothing. Especially when there's never any food around this place.
Not seeing anyone in the kitchen, but hearing an unfamiliar voice, the 7', barely clad bear-jherk wanders out to find Zoey and her new guest. The tiger is padding along at his heels, occasionally batting at a large dust bunny he found along the way.
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