It's been a long, long time since Tavi was in the Bar. As it is, his armor's covered in dust as he walks in, fully expecting his command building--and looks around with some surprise.
A slow smile spreads over his face, and then he all but bounds upstairs to go change, because crows he could do with a bath, meal, and an hour of not working on
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Enzo finishes running through "Bad Medicine" and sits back to see who's nearby.
"Hey! It's... you."
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Tavi just looks faintly amused.
"It is," he agrees.
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He is adult-Aleran-who-isn't-a-cheerfully-bad-influence.
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"Scipio. It's been a while, Enzo."
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If Enzo volunteers any further, he will gently explain it away as needing to remember many of his soldiers' names--and he commands thousands. Even the officers mean more names than most.
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"So what's processing with you?"
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"Come again?"
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Tavi sounds so, so wistful. He's wanted to see other worlds--and to show some of his friends here how beautiful his homeland is, even torn by war.
He loves Alera--his Alera.
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Beat.
"And I've brought visitors before. They just weren't... official."
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Then he cracks up.
That is so very much something he would do himself. "Forgiveness over permission--did you have to, or did you get away with it?"
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