Afon blinked her eyes open. Night had finally given way to day in the Labyrinth. How that worked, given that it was underground, she still had yet to understand. As she expected, Elowen was still sitting straight up in the hammock, keeping a watchful eye on the ground below. Afon tapped Elowen on the shoulder.

"Morning," she signed, still lying down in the hammock.

"Affirmative," Elowen signed in response. She...still had a ways to go in sounding natural all the time in sign language.

"Breakfast?" Afon asked this every day so far, even though Elowen's response—

"No."

—Was predictable. Never hurts to extend the offer. "I'll bring you back some pancakes anyway." Afon wasn't actually sure if... Wait, who was on breakfast duty today?

Oh, right, Vince. A thoroughly average cook. Pancakes probably weren't first on his mind for making breakfast.

Eh, she'd convince him. Afon pulled her spear out of where she'd stuck it in the tree, above the hammock, re-stuck it in another spot below the hammock, and flipped herself down. She repeated this until she was on the ground.

"Please stop doing that," she could see Elowen signing from the hammock. Elly seemed to get nervous every time Afon did that, no matter how many times Afon explained it was one of Rick's most useful survival techniques.

Entering the campsite, Afon found Vince cooking...something in a pot...over the campfire. Are breakfast foods normally cooked in pots? Afon had to find out—she tapped Vince on the shoulder.

"What're you cooking?" she signed to the, as far as she knew, erstwhile enforcer.

"Fish," Vince signed back. Afon blinked. She wasn't familiar with every method of cooking fish, but simmering them in a pot still seemed off. She walked to the fire, took the lid off the pot, and... Well, Vince was right. He was cooking fish.

A lot of fish.

Probably thirty or so fish, by Afon's count.

How did he even fit all those in the pot?

Afon slowly put the lid back on the pot. Well, she would've, except for the fact that there were thirty fish in the pot, and now they were all sticking out of the pot, making it somewhat difficult to put it back on.

"Let me handle this," Vince signed...even though Afon couldn't see him. Oops. He tapped her shoulder. "Let me handle this," he signed again, this time with Afon actually looking. Afon stared at him for a second, unsure of what, exactly, he could do to get these fish back in the pot.

Bang, bonk, bong.

Ah. So he pounds the lid of the pot with his shield a bunch. Effective!

...Afon came to the realization that the pot of fish meant Vince wasn't making pancakes. Damn. She'd had been trying to get Elowen to try pancakes for weeks now. Maybe she could make a batter-like substance by mashing one of the fish a bunch, and then cook it... Nah, that wouldn't even be close. Oh well, fish isn't bad.

Afon sat on the easternmost campfire log, waiting for the fish to be ready. It seemed like it'd be a while. Vince sat on the opposite log, eyeing the fish. All of a sudden, however, Vince's facial expression changed—to that of someone that remembered something they'd been meaning to ask for a while, but never got around to.

"Hey, Afon, I've been wondering: do you hear voices with sign language?" The question took Afon back a bit—both because of its suddenness, and her confusion about what the hell that meant.

"Can't hear much of anything, Vince," the Highlander responded, going for the sarcastic response first.

"No, not like that, I mean... How people talk," the Protector signed back, after realizing the ambiguity of his question. "Can you really tell one person's signing from another at a glance?"

"Given that I have to see them, yes." Afon knew Vince meant well and the questions didn't bother her, but she couldn't resist having a little bit of fun.

"No, no, I mean—"

"I know what you mean, you lummox," she interrupted. "Sometimes peoples' word choice matters, but a lot of the time I just pick up on how people sign. Speed, rigidness, weird things they do with certain gestures, stuff like that."

Vince paused. "So what have you picked up on with my signing?"

"It's one hundred percent 'guy that's getting the hang of signing but is still learning,' Clanky." Afon had personal sign names for some of the guild members by this point. For Vince, she spelled out Clanky, then pounded both of her fists on her collarbone area, and then raised her left arm while slapping it. Knocking on armor, then putting your hand on the front of a shield. As for Clanky, well, she obviously couldn't hear his armor go "clank," but reading a few stories had given her an idea of how armor can jostle around, and what sound it makes.

"See, I ask because I talk with a pretty distinctive voice, but I have no clue how to bring it over to sign language." Vince paused for a second, resting his head on his right hand while thinking. "Sometimes it's just changing some syllables in certain words, but there's also a lot of turns of phrase that I can only spell out here."

"Like what?" Afon tilted her head while signing the inquiry.

"E-y-y-y-y. It's a different way of saying 'hey'. Or my favorite one, o-o-p-s-a—"

"I get the idea," Afon silently interrupted. "You talk kinda weird for reasons I don't know."

"It's to...enhance my image, I guess. And I'm a bit sad you don't get to experience— Wait, no, I've got it!" Vince reached into the knapsack at his side, and pulled out...

Pasta.

Well, some kind of pasta prop, since it didn't move at all, or even look like real pasta.

"See, any time I pull this out, you'll be able to get a good approximation of my voice!"

Afon stared at Vince for a few seconds. Then, she stared at the pasta prop she couldn't believe he owned and brought with him to the trial. Then, without saying anything else, she got up, and left the campsite.

Then she came back, grabbed some fish, and left again. Elly'd probably like fish for breakfast.

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