Victor didn't intend to be close enough to overhear a spoken thought not meant for answering, but as he's taken in the feeling of this city, so unlike the one he'd visited years ago, he's been overhearing all kinds of things. His thoughts had run in similar lines, his heart yearning for a sense of what Krimnos is in this era, at the same time uncertain what it will be like when he finds it, in truth. There's no going home, and what new skin had their city grown, away from the fires of protection which had once kept it so warm? There's no doubt in his mind it's survived, because people do that, cities do that, and yet he can't think too closely on it. Can't let himself long for what he'd lost even before he died. That sense of home.

So he has kept himself moving through the markets, sampling foodstuffs he's heard of, and particularly those he has not. Food is another artform, and the skewers of grilled fish with their two different sauces are delicious and cooling as he listens and observes, allowing himself to be tourist at heart--and mindful of his tucked away coins, with his spell of warning against pickpockets. It was a city, after all, and he knew the sting of that need. Money didn't solve everything, but it filled bellies and might buy protection for a little while.

Makka is an excellent deterrent, her wild looks more compelling than he expected. All the more amusing, because she's only as dangerous as she needs to be, and right now, the need is low.

"Ships are left in harbor when the seas are too treacherous, aren't they?" he asks for the question that wasn't meant for answering, offering his open-faced wrapped sticks of grilled fish to Alucard. "You should really try some of the fish."

Makka, who has enjoyed the fish as much as Victor has, gives the fish a longing look and licks her lips. She's already been fed, but food is enticing, especially good food. Even if most of it is lost to her palate.