He'd done well for himself. Soryk had decided that several times in the past and usually when he claimed it (even silently), it was generally true. (And if it wasn't, he genuinely believed it, which was usually all that mattered.) With how seemingly (but briefly) cold Zelda had taken to his return, he had been uncertain if he could convince the seemingly demure princess to join him. Yet she must have found something redeeming in him and he couldn't quite deny the way his chest wanted to swell with pride any time she chose to take his arm.

Was he becoming... humble? Impossible. Impossible. Impossshibibibble. Well, perhaps not as impossible as he wanted to believe it was.

It was really the first evening he was full of genuine smiles, which seemed uncharacteristic of him. And for the most part, he wanted to stay near Zelda, if he could manage it. However to catch him without her, one would find him in that archaic and outdated garb, staring at the food and contemplating how many germs were possibly crawling over the smaller delights.