“You’ll find out. Shall we say nineteen tines?”
“Nineteen tines is good for us. We shall see you then.”
* * * *
“Is this too much for you, Pa Syn?” Her Warriors looked at her in concern.
“A casual dinner for five is not a problem; oh bother, invite Anya and company as well. Is it okay for us to do it informally?” Syn asked.
“Of course it is. TeAllen and TeWell know that this is last mot. They will expect replicated food, not fresh. TeJonal and TeTonas won’t care,” Zaron pointed out as he caressed Syn’s shoulders.
Bron kissed Syn’s nose. “The chefs can take care of all of this; you do not have to do anything.”
“But I want to, my loves. And I have a bone to pick with you.” Syn put her hands on her hips.
“What does this phrase mean, ‘bone to pick,’ is it slang again?” Bron asked, his face quizzical.