Thursday evening sees Martel no more interested in this dinner than he was when he agreed to it - but he did agree to it and he's making a particular point lately of making good on his promises, even the ones that aren't really oaths.

A smaller dining room has been chosen and thoroughly prepared; Martel gets the vague impression that Grella is a little indignant about his having a dinner party ('It's not a dinner party') and not letting her cook for it, and retreats very quickly from the planning because sometimes it really doesn't matter that he's actually the one in charge here. There's something vaguely reassuring about that, a notion that he chooses not to dwell on deeply. (There are more things, some days, that Martel avoids thinking about than anything else.)

He snaps a quill pen in his hand unintentionally, absolutely not hiding in his study. Someone should be up to let him know when they've arrived, at least.